My Mother's Date
by alexandria26
Summary: Ana's 17 year old life gets complicated when she falls hard for 30 year old Christian Grey, the man her mother was originally intending to date from on a dating website. As feelings become reciprocated, can they make it last despite the age difference & the potential backlash their secret relationship could bring if ever discovered? Young Ana/Older Christian. M for upcoming themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, first of all, I don't own anything to do with the 50 Shades Trilogy. I'm just a massive fan here.**

 **I have always been fond of forbidden relationships in stories and film, so this came to me out of that. Ana is seventeen going on eighteen, and Christian is thirty in this. There is an attraction there between them.**

 **I'm not sure if anyone would like this, or if its a story you would like to read more of, but I'd like to know if you would be interested in more perhaps? :)**

 **My Mother's Date**

"Ana? Ana, honey? Time to wake up, lazy bones!"

I wake to the sound of my mother screaming at me. With a groan, I open my eyes, lifting my head from the pillow to look around my room groggily. With the curtains closed, its too dark and its next to impossible to see what the actual time is. Then my eyes flit over to the illuminated red numbers on my alarm clock, and the hammer of realization pounds brutally into my skull then.

It's 7.00 in the morning. School starts in barely one and a half hours. Crap.

"Ana, are you up yet? Honey, you better get up so you can get yourself some breakfast otherwise you'll be starving!"

The sudden impatient pounding noise on my bedroom door startles me and I get up, hastily tossing my blankets off me.

"Ana, honey? Did you hear me? You have to get ready for school."

"Okay, Mom," I holler. "Yeah, I heard you the first time!" She bangs once more just for the sake of it, I suppose. "I'm up and getting dressed now!"

"Good girl. You just can't be late. High school is very important at your age." Says the woman who didn't even get past the tenth grade before she pulled out.

"Yeah, mom. I know. I'm getting changed now so just... like, chill out."

I search frantically for something decent to wear today for school, which ends up simply being a pair of black jeans, my trusty old Converse trainers, and a woolen jumper. Then I try to make my hair look good; the worst and most difficult part of all. I scowl at my reflection in the mirror on my dresser. Ugh. There's a zit on my chin that wasn't there yesterday and bags under my eyes from last nights late study session to complete my English assignment on time, which is due today in second period.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

Sometimes being seventeen royally sucks. If trying to fit in with other girls my age in school wasn't enough, I have to deal with fluctuating hormones and gross zits that pop up almost magically without warning. At least I know a fair deal on how to apply make-up; I manage to get my brown hair into a fairly neat ponytail before attempting to apply concealer over my zit and the hideous bags beneath my eyes.

Stepping back, I turn sideways, looking at myself self-consciously in the mirror. It's definitely good enough. My clothes are clean and Mom washed them for me a couple of days ago. My hairs neat. Everything else- those niggling things I hate about myself- I can really do nothing about. I could always look worse.

Grabbing my bag, I make sure I have all of my assignment together before heading downstairs. Already my Mom is in the kitchen, sitting at the table sipping her coffee while she checks out any new people that have signed up on the dating website she frequently goes on with her notepad. My mother Carla is forty-eight years old, and she and my father got divorced when I was just barely three.

I hardly see my dad anymore because he moves constantly in his camper van, but when I do, its awkward and strange.

Sometimes I wonder if my mother is still in love with my father; He recently got remarried last year to this hippy woman who loves going camping with him and they are real outdoorsy and my mother, when she heard of the news, she had excused herself from the room only to come out fifteen minutes later with puffy eyes. I'm pretty sure she cries over my dad a lot.

It was only until recently that a friend from her work suggested she start up a profile on a dating website, and she has gone out on several dates, but she hardly ever brings the guys home for me to meet, so it must mean they weren't all that serious to begin with. She has shown me some of the pictures of the guys that were interested in hooking up with her. Half of them were really gross. It had started to become a good joke between us, a mother-daughter thing, where we'd look through profiles and pictures of the guy and laugh.

Only, this morning, something was seriously different. Her notepad alerted her loudly that she had just been sent a message. Mom doesn't laugh or call me over, like she usually does. No, she goes rather red in the face and covers her mouth with a smile.

"What?" I ask her with interest as I start buttering up some bread for lunch. "How's it going? Any latest potential candidates?"

I expect Mom to laugh, to scold me playfully. Only she doesn't. She peers up at me, her eyes crinkled in a way I haven't seen them go in a super long time. Whoever this dude is on the dating website, he has actually managed to cheer my mother up.

"Come look at this," she says, calling me over. "See what you think of this one."

My interest intensified, I slather peanut butter and jelly over my bread quickly before ditching it to see what the fuss is all about.

I feel my heart do a weird spasm when I look over her shoulder at the picture she has enlarged for me. Wow, this guy actually isn't half bad, considering all the other guys on the site. He's young, about in his late twenties to mid-thirties. His hair is a tousled auburn, and he has no bald spots in sight. There's a bit of stubble around his chin and upper lip, his nose strongly shaped. I can't see any piercings or tattoos visible on him either- one of mom's major dislikes. His eyes are very piercing and intense, a grey as they look directly into the camera lens. Very nice, from what I could see of him.

"Wow," is all I can manage to say. It's the only thing that seems right. "He doesn't look very... serial killer, right? He doesn't look too perverted and creepy like... he has a shrine of murdered women in his closet."

Mom laughs. "Actually, he's the one I met last night."

"So that's why you were late home?" Mom hadn't gotten home until after twelve thirty last night. She had given me money to order a pizza while I crammed in study. She hadn't said it was because she was heading out on a date with a potential boyfriend. "Was he nice?"

"He was actually. He was rather sweet, kind of... mysterious and shy." She looks up at me, somewhat embarrassed. "I couldn't help but get the feeling he's a bit too young for me. Do you think I'm too old for him?"

"Too old for him? Mom, you're still young. Besides it has a name. And its called being a Cougar. Cougars are all the rage these days."

She laughs again. "A Cougar? Oh, great. Now I definitely feel too old for him. He seemed very mature for his age, though."

"Who cares whether he is younger than you anyway? Mom, normally people don't care about that these days. If he seemed interested in you, and you're interested in him, then I say go for it."

She stares at me, shaking her head slightly. "God, I don't know, Ana. I still don't know if I'll ever be ready to date."

"But you're lonely." Mom may try to act as though she isn't but I know deep down that she is. She stills cries because of dad sometimes. "You deserve a little bit of happiness. If people are going to judge you all because you're seeing a younger guy, then screw them. Besides I'm sure Alicia is all for it." Alicia is Mom's closest friend, the one that suggested she ought to sign up to the dating site and create a profile for herself in the first place. "Alicia would be so happy for you."

"And what about you?" she asks me gently.

I shrug, gnawing on my lip. "What about me, Mom?"

"Well, how do you feel about all of this? About the idea of me starting to date again?"

"You really want to know what I think about you starting to date again, Mom?"

She gives me a pleading, wide-eyed look. "Please, Ana."

"I think its about fucking time!" I burst out, smiling wryly at her. Mom gives me a reproachful look, displeased by my filthy language. "Whoops, sorry for the bad word, Mom. But seriously, its about time that you start putting your own happiness first." Bending down, I slip my arms around her neck, hugging her tightly. "I mean, I can see you're not happy, that you... that you still get upset over dad sometimes."

"God, Ana. Am I that transparent to you?"

"Sometimes." I give her a tight, comforting squeeze before pulling back to prepare and finish up my lunch. "Really, you don't need to worry about what I'll think, Mom. I think you deserve some happiness and love in your life, whether it be with... a guy younger than you or not. Your a great mother, and you've always put me first in most things. I think now its time that you start putting yourself first, too."

Mom blinks at me like I've grown another head. "Who are you? And what have you done with my daughter?"

I laugh. "Seriously, Mom. Go for it."

"Okay then. If you insist..." She still watches me, somewhat suspiciously. Even when I shove my lunchbox in my bag, she's still watching me in a funny way. "Actually, after we met for coffee and a quick dinner last night, I may have offered him to come over for dinner. Tonight."

"So?"

"So, Ana, you're my daughter and your a big part of my life. Any man who wants to get involved with me has to know the full package that comes along with dating me, and you're a part of that. He's coming over for dinner tonight, so can you actually get home on time?"

I make a face at her. "But I had plans with Kate to go to the movies tonight after school."

"Well, you and Kate are just going to have to postpone. I really want you to meet him and, after having talked about you last night briefly, about what you did at school and about... about my situation with your father, he seemed... interested in meeting you, too. I want you to be home straight after you finish school. You'll have to tell Kate to postpone the movie for another night, because I need you home here, with me, eating dinner and meeting this man. Do you think you can manage that for me? Just this once?" Mom has her bossy tone happening. She only talks that way when she is one-hundred-percent serious about something.

"Fine," I give in instantly with a sigh. "I'll tell Kate that we will have to postpone for tomorrow night instead."

"Thank you, honey. I just... I feel its real important that, for anyone I may be considering to seriously date, that they know what comes with me. I mean, you and I, we're kind of a package deal, aren't we? I think its only fair the men I meet know who else plays a huge part in my life."

"Okay, Mom. I get it. This is a big thing for you, and you want me to be there."

"Just promise me you won't be rude to him, all right?" she asks me with a note of warning clear in her voice. "Be polite and try not to be your usual bratty self."

"Okay, I'll be on my best behavior for you, Mom." I hold up both hands, crossing my fingers. "Scouts honor. I'll be the angelic teenage daughter who says 'please' and 'thank you'."

"Angelic daughter, my ass," Mom grumbles playfully. We both crack up laughing, because we both know I'm not that bad. I can be rude and a brat sometimes, but most of the time, I'm a good girl who gets her homework done on time. I mightn't get the best grades in the world, but I do try my best. Especially when it comes to keeping my mother happy.

"Anyway, Mom. I better start walking to school." Grabbing my bag, I make sure it is zipped completely before I slide the straps over both shoulders.

"Please, try to remember that I want you home straight after school, Ana."

"Yes, Mom. I won't forget."

"Okay, honey." Rising from her chair quickly, she darts over to give me a loud kiss on the cheek. "You have a good day!"

"I woke up with a massive zit on my chin, Mom. Does it sound like its going to be a good day to you?"

Mom looks my face over carefully. "A zit. Where?"

I give her a look. I know she's just messing around. "On my chin, of course. It's huge, isn't it?"

"Barely. I can hardly see the thing, Ana. You're being simply paranoid."

But I know I'm not being paranoid, and that Mom's being full of shit. Because when I meet my best friend Kate halfway down the road, she spots it the instance she sees me.

"Holy shit, Ana. Someone has a massive zit on her face! How disgusting!"

"Fuck you, Miss Perfect Skin," I growl at her, landing a good punch on her arm playfully. She punches me back in an unpleasantly bruising way, then we both crack up laughing loudly while making the walk towards school.

It's funny; Kate and I never talk like this in front of adults, usually. Especially not our parents, who we were fairly sure would ground us for weeks if we ever did, though my mom no longer grounded me anymore because she felt personally that I was too old for that, thank God. But Kate's parents would totally ground her if they heard such filthy language coming from her mouth.

"Guess what?" I ask her, deciding on some good old gossiping before we reach school.

"What? What's new?"

"Mom's actually bringing a guy over tonight," I get out to her in a rush. "She showed me a picture and everything, and he's actually not that bad. He's quite... cute."

Kate stares at me in a wide-eyed, hysterical way. "Oh my God, Ana. Carla is bringing a guy over for dinner for you to meet? Seriously?"

"Yep, seriously."

"But what if he's this psycho that starts stabbing you and your Mom in the middle of dinner?"

"He actually doesn't look like a psycho, Kate. I think Mom's real keen on him though. He's younger than her."

"Cougar Carla," Kate says, in a sing-song voice. "Good for her. You think it'll help her get over what happened with your dad?"

"Probably." I shrug. "Who knows?"

"Is he bald with facial hair?"

"No, he actually has a lot of hair. Not too much facial hair from what I could see on the picture, though."

"What if its, like, an old picture of him in his graduation year book, and really, he's like, eighty and fat?" Kate shudders at the thought.

I laugh. "Somehow I highly doubt it."

Six hours later, I have finally gotten though my last period for the day and am ready to head off. I handed in all my assignments, my teachers commended me on getting it done on time, and so far, the day hasn't really been that bad despite the grotesque zit on my chin. No one has said anything mean about the zit- at least that's a good thing. I feel strangely cheerful as I gather my bag out of my locker, and walk out towards the front entrance to leave. Then my day is thoroughly squished and ruined, when I see how bad the weather has nose-dived.

It's raining. Literally bucketing down with rain. And, to make matters much worse, I didn't think of bringing an umbrella with me today. Well, awesome. Just wonderful.

Stopping by the steps, I haul my bag off my shoulders onto the ground and kneel, trying to find the old jacket I stuffed in there from months back. Already, its freezing outside and my breaths come out all misty. Stupid weather. Stupid everything. That's when I spot the guy watching me out of the corner of my eye. When I peer up, I see he is standing huddled by the wall, watching me with amusement while he rubs his hands together to get some warm friction happening. He looks oddly familiar to me, though I can't say I've ever met him before.

"Excuse me?" he says, his voice low and pleasing. "You wouldn't happen to be Anastasia Steele by any chance, would you? Carla's daughter?"

I furrow my brow, looking him over more carefully. He's dressed like a man that works in the corporate world, his shoes polished and shiny. His tailored suit- gray jacket and pants, white shirt- looks expensive. He's about in his early thirties, I'd say. Really, its so hard to tell with adults, but... he's actually hot. Hot for an older dude, I mean, with his hair combed back and slightly unruly. How the hell does he know my name, though? And not to mention my mother's name? What the hell?

"Um, yeah." My voice comes out too croaky, so I clear it. "I mean, yeah. I'm Ana, and I'm Carla's daughter. Why? What's it to you?"

"Well, I'm Christian. I told your mother I wouldn't mind picking you up, since I finished work early. Especially considering how rainy it is, I think its lucky I did offer after all. Wouldn't you?" Finally finding my jacket, I fling it on before zipping my bag and standing upright.

Holy crap, he is so tall. I barely reach his chest. He must be over six-feet or something. Fucking huge.

"Sure thing. Um, who did you say you were again?"

I think he's amused. Really, he keeps his face so impassive that its hard to tell. All I know, is that he is very handsome. I've always had a thing for older guys. George Clooney, Brad Pitt. Sure, this guy isn't as old as they are but... there is just something about mature men.

"Grey." He extends a hand out to me, smiling somewhat warmly. "I'm Christian Grey."

I still have no idea what he means by that, but I accept his offered hand anyway. The instance our hands meet and we shake, I notice how strong and confident his grip is, how... masculine. It's like his hand literally swallows mine, and not completely in a bad way. Cliche, maybe, but... its true.

"Anastasia, but really, you knew that already, didn't you?" I say weakly. "I'm Anastasia, but I prefer to be called Ana. So call me it. Ana, I mean." He looks at me in a way that is scarily intense, his eyes a bright, alert gray. "So, do you know my mother or something?"

It takes me a second too long to realize that his hand is still clinging to mine. Clearing his throat, he releases my hand to shove his hands into his trouser pockets quickly. "I met her for coffee and dinner last night. Didn't she tell you?"

"I don't think so," I say uncertainly. She came home late last night. She certainly never mentioned meeting a guy called Christian, who was... fine as hell.

"Well, I'm coming for dinner tonight. I thought she said that she told you?"

At that comment, its like I've been kicked in the gut. Holy crap. This is the guy my mother saw last night! Suddenly, it all dramatically falls into place and make sense. It was his picture I saw on the notepad this morning, the one Mom showed me! He's the guy!

"Oh, right." I laugh out loud at my own stupidity. When I throw a look his way again, I discover he is already watching me, his eyebrows lifted quizzically. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression. "God, I completely forgot. I didn't realize you were the very same guy that she showed me the photo of!"

"Yes, and I'm also the very same guy that is offering you a lift in these horrendous conditions." He waves in the general direction of the parking lot. "Shall we?"

"Okay. If my Mom said its okay that you can give me a lift, then okay."

I follow him down the steps towards where a newish model-looking car is waiting. The windows are tinted so its impossible to see inside, but I notice he holds the door open for me, allowing me to head in first. It's a thoughtful thing for him to do, as its freezing in just the clothes I'm wearing. I huddle in quickly, shoving my school bag down on the floor while he shuts the door to walk around to the other side opposite me. That's when I take notice of the man in front. Obviously this guy, this Christian, doesn't drive. He must have his own personal chauffeur or escort. Too weird.

"You don't drive yourself?" I ask, weirded-out, once he sits across from me in the backseat as well. He combs his hair back with his fingers, water dribbling down his face.

"No, I don't. This is Taylor, my driver."

The man in the drivers seat, Taylor, turns back to give me a nod in greeting before he starts the car and reverses out carefully. I find it crazy that a man in his thirties doesn't even drive himself around. Shouldn't he know how to drive already?

"Can't you drive yourself?" I ask, then cringe. Mom always says I'm too straightforward for my own good. Oh, well. Crap happens.

"I can. I simply prefer Taylor to do it for me." He moves over beside me in the seat, startling me. His face inches from mine, he stares into my eyes, reaching around me. I have no idea what he is doing, until I do, just like that, when my seat belt clicks securely in place. "Seat belts at all times," he says, almost threateningly. Then he leans back into the seat near his side of the window and quickly buckles his own.

"Oh, yes. Heaven forbid we forget to wear our seat belts," I mutter under my breath sarcastically. "How stupid and reckless of us should we do forget."

He sets one elbow up on the door rest, eyeing me with his lips curled in slight amusement. His hair is still dripping wet. I know mine is too, but thank God he actually was kind enough to give me a lift home. I would have hated to walk in this weather. I would have only gotten soaked by the time I got home. And its warm in the car too, the heater on while the windows fog up around us.

"So... you and my Mom, huh?"

"Yes. She's a very... lovely woman." He starts rubbing around his chin with his index finger and middle finger.

"She is. And she means a great deal to me, so you better not hurt her in any way."

If he's unperturbed by my threat, he doesn't show it in anyway. He simply stares at me with the same intensity as before. Then, he clears his throat before glancing away quickly. "Your mother tells me that you are in your final year of high school. Do you have any plans after you graduate?"

His interest throws me off, but I figure he's just trying to make conversation. "I'm not sure yet. I guess I'm still... reviewing my options. How old are you?" The question comes out of my mouth without thought.

He glances my way again, his eyes raking down me contemplatively. "Why does it interest you that badly, how old I am?"

"It doesn't. I'm just... curious, I guess."

"How old do I look to you?" For some reason, I start to feel strangely flustered over the way he stares at me, so intently and absorbed. Does he even blink?

"I don't know." I swallow dryly. "I've never been all that good with guessing ages, but I'd say you are about in your... thirties, maybe?"

"Yes. I turn thirty next month. Very good guess." His eyes move across my face in an unnerving way, like he is searching for something. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," I say honestly. "Well, I mean. I'll be eighteen soon, but that's... in a few months. Are you a lawyer or something?"

"Am I lawyer? No. What makes you assume that?"

"Because you dress like one," I say without thought. I can feel my cheeks burning. "You seem like the... lawyer type."

"No, I'm not a lawyer. What is it that you intend to do after school is finished?"

"You already asked me what I intend to do. And like I said, I have no plans so far."

"Oh, right. I did ask that, didn't I?" He smiles, revealing a pair of straight white teeth. I almost stop breathing. Sometimes when people smile, its amazing how different they look, how... younger. When he smiles, he hardly looks like a thirty-year old dude one bit. "Then what do you like to do, aside from...school?"

"I like to read, hence why English is probably my ultimate favorite class. I love both reading and writing."

"Oh, really?" His eyebrows lift, in interest. "Which books do you like reading? Picture books and fairy-tales?" His voice goes slightly condescending. He is teasing me.

"No, I'm not five," I say bluntly. "I love the classics. Wuthering Heights. East of Eden. Lolita. They are some of my favorites at the top of my head."

"Well, well." His eyes are alight with curiosity. I think maybe I've impressed him. "You have excellent taste for a girl your age."

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do." His fingers get to stroking his chin again. His other hand starts running back and forth over his trousers. "I certainly wasn't expecting that."

"Oh? And why weren't you?" I stare him down, holding his gaze for all I'm worth. This is surprisingly... entertaining.

"I'm not sure why. I just wasn't."

"Are you a serial killer?" I blab out before I can stop myself.

He gives me a lopsided smile, chuckling in a very appealing way. "Why do you ask, Anastasia? Do I seem as though I am?"

"Ana," I correct him flatly. "It's just Ana, no Anastasia. I just like Ana."

"Ana, then." It's crazy how good my name sounds coming from his voice. Scary, even. "Do I seem like a serial killer to you?"

"I don't know. Are you one?"

That smile is still there. It makes him look boyish and fun. "It depends. How many victims do I have to kill to be defined as a serial killer in your eyes?" His gaze is intense as he stares at me, humor filling his eyes.

"Hmm, two maybe. Two to five victims."

"Then no. I believe it is safe to say that I'm not a serial killer, nor do I ever intend to become one anytime soon."

"Well, then. That's good to know, because if you are one, I'd be telling my mother to avoid you at all costs. Then I would be the one at danger of becoming a serial killer in the attempt to try to ward you away from her."

His boyish smile deflates suddenly, that humor fading away almost immediately. He cocks his head to the side, running his eyes down my clothes again. In a bizarre way, I feel this weird feeling, all due to the way he looks at me. Like I'm a girl of interest, something worthy of getting to know. It's a feeling I have never felt before, not with anyone. There's this weird ache in me that makes my belly clench.

"Why did you create a profile on a dating website?" I ask curiously. I just want to understand.

He tears his eyes away from me quickly, stroking his chin again in thought, and my body seems to sag. I don't think I've ever met somebody who could look at me the way he is, like he's devouring me, weird as that sounds. "Because I find it incredibly difficult to meet people." He won't look me in the eyes as he says it. He turns his eyes towards the fogged up window on his side instead.

He finds it difficult to meet people to date? How the hell could he? I mean, really. He's a total hottie and dreamboat!

"Is there, like...something wrong with you?" I ask in disbelief. "I mean, surely you'd have millions of women throwing themselves at you, right?"

Finally, that humor is there again. He chuckles again, in a self-depreciating way that makes my intestines feel strangely mushy.

"Serial killers and perverts go on dating websites," I say senselessly. "Actually, no that's rude. That's stereotyping, I know. But there must be... something fatally wrong with you then if you can't meet a woman in the real world? Like some fatal flaw that turns a woman off in a severe way?"

The muscles in his jaw clench and then slacken as he returns his eyes to me again. "What would you consider to be a fatal flaw?"

I have no idea why he is bothering to ask for my output, but whatever. "I don't know. Do you have six toes on each foot?"

"No, I don't have six toes on each foot. But I do like to... exercise control." He compresses his lips together in a tight line for a moment, as if worried he'll give too much away. "A lot of women have commented that I was... overbearing and... dominating. I believe that is my main problem. I need to be the one in control at all times." That doesn't sound like a fatal flaw to me. Surely it had to be something more hardcore, right?

"Then unfortunately for you, you're gonna have trouble with my Mom."

"Really?"

"Yep. Mom likes being an independent woman despite craving love." The car comes to a sudden stop and when I bring my eyes away from him, it takes me a moment to see that we're actually at my house. Some part of me feels disappointed that we are, because talking to him has been rather enjoyable. "Well, here we are. We're home."

"That, we are." He unfastens his seat belt and just as I'm about to do the same, he makes a deep noise of disapproval before moving over me again. "I'll do that for you," he says, but his tone is firm, stern almost. He definitely would make a good teacher, that's for sure.

I laugh, despite myself, when he pulls the strap of my seat belt off of me. In the space of a second, he has managed to make me feel like an incompetent child.

"What?" When I throw a glance at his face quickly, I see he looks deadly serious.

"Damn, you weren't kidding. Were you?"

"About what, Ana?" His forehead creases in confusion as he runs his eyes over my face. His knee is pressing against my thigh, his body slanted towards me in the seat. It is definitely too close for comfort yet, at the same time, I find myself wickedly enjoying it.

"About liking control. I think one day you're gonna love having a kid of your own so that you can boss them around, aren't you?"

"Hurry inside before you get wet again," he says, reaching past me to hold the door open for me. "Next time you should take an umbrella with you, or a coat at the very least so you won't freeze." Again, his voice is disapproving, stern. Yep, he definitely should have taken up a career in teaching.

But damn, he's right. It's still pelting outside so, bracing myself, I snatch my school bag up and run for it, jumping out of his car and racing as fast up the steps to the front door for coverage as my legs will allow. I know he is close behind me when I hear him panting slightly, and as I open the door and he comes inside too, I turn to look at him while he wipes his wet shoes considerately on the doormat. Hair wet and dripping, his suit sticking to him, he smiles at me, showing me those straight white teeth of his again.

A weird fluttery feeling erupts into my chest as he rakes one hand through his hair while closing the door securely behind us to stop the cold draft and rain from getting in.

I think I might actually be starting to have a thing for this guy. This Christian Grey. And since he is practically here for my Mom to have dinner with us tonight, that is pretty screwed up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Again I don't own anything to do with the 50 Shades Trilogy. I'm just a massive fan here.**

 **Thank you so much for the alerts I have received, as well as the comments. You are all too kind. I hope you enjoy this one, too ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Once dinner gets underway, I feel ridiculously self-conscious as I sit at the table, something I've never really felt in my own home before.

My heart is pounding and my hands keep shaking stupidly every time I use my fork to shovel some of the food Mom has cooked into my mouth. I have no idea why I'm feeling this way, though. Okay, so maybe I do. It's due to our dinner guest, the handsome Christian Grey. He's just so charming, and his voice is that naturally compelling that you just automatically sit up and listen.

He tells us stories about how he was adopted and how he grew up loving to play the piano, and I'd have to be full of shit if I didn't admit that, not only was he charming the pants off my Mom with his witty and endearing tales, but me as well.

Every time his eyes flit over to me while he talks, like he wants to make sure he has my undivided attention as well as my mother's, I feel myself get even hotter under the intensity of his stare. As for my Mom, well, I have no idea how she is feeling right now.

He had gone back out to his chauffeur in the car to get the bottle of wine he had bothered to bring with him for dinner, and ever since Mom has started gulping down her third glass, she's been acting strange. Maybe wine effects people in that way? Not that I'd know, of course. Mom has only let me have a mouthful of wine once, and that had to have been over twelve months ago during Christmas time.

Halfway through dinner, Mom's fork and knife clatters loudly on her plate and she supports her head in her hand while she waves her face with the other, blowing out through her mouth shakily. Her eyes have gone all glassy. I've never really seen her that way before.

I lean over towards her in my seat nervously. "Mom, are you feeling okay?" I ask, worried.

She laughs at herself and her unusual behavior, shaking her head. "God, I must be a lightweight. It's the glasses of wine." She looks over at our dinner guest Christian apologetically. "I'm sorry. It's just been a long time since I've had wine."

"Do you maybe need to go lay down for a bit?" I ask her. "Would that maybe make you feel better?" I look Christian's way for assistance, because really, I have no idea what to do in this situation. Mom has never gotten drunk in front of me before. Not on any occasion that I remember, anyway.

"I'm so sorry," she apologizes again, her voice slurred. "This is what happens when you get to my age, I think. Ana, take this as a lesson. The older you get, the sooner things start to go downhill. I certainly can't handle my drink like I used to. How embarrassing."

"Don't apologize," Christian says, his eyes flickering back towards both me and my Mom uncertainly. "I'm the one that should be apologizing, forcing those glasses of wine on you like that."

It seems to be the charming words Mom needs to hear, because she laughs.

"No, no," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "This is definitely all my fault. I should have controlled myself better. You just know your wines, and this one"- She pauses to lift her glass up to her lips, taking in another loud slurp -"This one is marvelous."

"I suppose that is why I only drink two glasses of this wine at a time, otherwise I won't be able to work to my best capabilities in the morning. All about knowing your limits, and all that..." He smiles at my Mom and I can't help staring. He really is the most handsome man I've ever seen, whether he is older than me or otherwise.

"Then there, we have it. This is my fault. I should have stopped at two, yet I didn't. Did I? I have terrible impulse control and self-restraint." She takes another long sip of her glass of wine, finishing it all off in a daring manner. "This is really the best wine I've tasted in a long time."

I guess Mom really is right, about things going downhill. Because barely five minutes later, she can hardly control her body.

"I... I think I need to go to bed," she says, her voice garbled. "Ana, would you mind helping me up?"

"Of course, Mom." I get up quickly from my chair, sliding a hand beneath her arms as I help her up. She is really in a bad way, though; Her arms dangle at her sides and she staggers into me.

"Again, I apologize about this, Christian," she says profusely, about the eighth time she has said it. "Next time I'll know not to indulge so much."

"It's fine, Carla. Really."

"I'm terribly sorry about having to call the evening short. Thank you for the wonderful evening and the wonderful wine."

Christian stands, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets with a nod. "You're very welcome. And thank you. It has been a... wonderful night. I really enjoyed myself."

"Oh, you're a darling," Mom says, lifting a hand to pat him on his chest before I struggle to help her upstairs into her room. It's a tricky task, but after a few tries we manage to get upstairs and into her room, where she literally collapses down on the side of the bed, her dress bunched up around her knees. "God, Ana, honey. I'm so sorry."

"Mom, don't be silly. You have nothing to apologize for."

I find a spare blanket in her closet and shake it out before throwing it over her body.

"I do," she insists, looking up at me with her glossy eyes while I tuck the blanket around her so she's warm. "I shouldn't have drank so much. But you know me, don't you? I have never been particularly good with controlling myself, and really, that wine was too good and proved too hard to resist." She laughs again in embarrassment.

"Mom, it's fine. You don't need to explain yourself to me. Lift your head up." She moves around, trying to make herself lay more comfortably on her bed while I bring her pillows around her head. "Are you warm enough?"

"I definitely should be, honey." She makes a low humming noise as she spreads out on her back, her long hair strewn around her. "Please, tell him I'm sorry. He probably thinks I'm this crazy old hag with a drinking problem."

"Mom, stop it," I warn her. What on earth is she talking about? Definitely must be the three glasses of wine that she's gulped down in a half an hour period.

"I just... I haven't had a drink in so long. I definitely can't handle it the way I used to."

"Mom, stop apologizing."

"He's just... too young, isn't it?" She peers up at me doubtfully. "He's too young for me."

"I really don't believe that's it, Mom," I tell her gently. "You need to stop it."

"Is she better than me?" she asks me quietly. Is she better than her? Who?

"Um, who, Mom?"

"You know..." She laughs. "The woman your father is now married to. Does she seem... better than me?"

I feel my heart sink. While I knew Mom had trouble accepting that my father has moved on and remarried, I didn't know she was struggling this much. Wine must be like truth serum. "Mom, you really need to stop this. She is in no way better than you. You're amazing, and I love you."

"Yeah, well, your my daughter. It's what you're expected to say. But just tell him I'm sorry, okay? Tell him I'm sorry for not controlling myself better and that I understand completely if he doesn't want to see me again..."

"Okay, Mom. Whatever makes you happy." Leaning down, I kiss her on the cheek. "I'll show him out and tell him. Then I'll come up to check on you in another couple of minutes, okay?"

"Okay, honey."

Turning the lamp on near her drawer, I head out, switching the main light off. I feel my stomach twist with nerves as I head back downstairs to attend to our guest. I have no experience in this situation, and I hardly know what to do or say. A part of me hopes he has already let himself out, but that wish is immediately doused when I see him sitting in his chair at the kitchen table still.

"Well, this is a disaster," I whisper awkwardly, the only thing I can seem to manage as a way to lighten the situation.

Christian straightens up in the chair, his grey eyes alight with both concern and humor as he looks at me. I think he is almost trying to hide a smile.

"Is she all right?" he asks me uncertainly. He clears his throat, in a kind of anxious way. "She got into that wine fairly quickly?"

"I know she did. It's been a real long time since she's drank anything." I smile at him sadly. Gosh, poor Mom. "I don't know if she's going to be all right, though. She's pretty tipsy." Butterflies. I feel as though I have butterflies fluttering around inside me when I start collecting our plates and cutlery to wash them. Mom always gets me to wash up as part of my chores, so I figure she'll be glad if I do it for her now considering the terrible state she is in. "She said she's so sorry and that she understands if you don't want to see her ever again."

He nods a couple of times and licks his lips. I have no idea how he feels on the idea of not seeing my Mom ever again.

All I know, is that the way he moistens his lips is strangely distracting. Out of nowhere, I wonder what it would be like to be kissed by him. How the amount of stubble on his chin and around his upper lip would feel against me. I feel myself redden as I give my head a little shake. Talk about terrible of me. My poor Mom's upstairs tipsy and off her head while here I am, her daughter, fantasizing about the man she is supposed to be with now kissing me...

I really must have serious brain problems.

"Would you like me to help you clean up?" he asks me, surprising me. "Seeing as I'm the reason your mother is in the state she is, it would really be the least I could do." Not waiting for my answer, he stands, gathering his plate himself.

He follows me over to the kitchen sink while I start running the water. When I spray a decent amount of detergent in, I feel super self-conscious that he is probably staring at me. When I let myself look up at his face quickly, I discover that he is. He is staring at me in a bizarre way. A bit like he concentrating hard. A rush of heat hits my face again. I wouldn't be surprised if I have gone as red as a tomato.

"Okay, then. You can help if you're really wanting to, I guess? I really don't mind doing it all myself, anyway. It's part of my household chores."

"Your household chores?" He repeats in amusement. "You have household chores?" Clearly he is finding the fact that I do hilarious. Couldn't imagine why, though.

"Yeah, I do." I scrape the scrapes of uneaten food into the bin before dropping the plates in the sink. "Didn't you have... household chores when you were my age?"

"No, I don't believe I did. Or perhaps I did, but I just only can't remember."

When I plunge my hands down into the water to start washing up, its really too hot and scalding. But in my view, the hotter the better. We fall into an awkward silence when he grabs a hand towel and starts drying the dirty dishes after I've finished cleaning them. Somewhere along the line, I had been too preoccupied with washing up to have even noticed him remove his jacket. The sleeves on his white shirt and rolled up neatly past his elbows, and I can't help looking. I've just got to look.

Clearly he is a man who believes in taking good care of his body, because I see the muscles in his arms flex while he wipes the dishes clean. Hopefully in a way that he doesn't notice, I let my eyes drift upwards, noticing the two top buttons on his shirt are undone, his collar loose and open. He has a sprinkling of chest hair there, not too much, but not too little either. He isn't a hairy bear, of course. I'd say he is just perfect all around.

I know this is so wrong, perving on the guy who is supposed to be here for my mother tonight; My poor mother who accidentally drank too much of the wine he bought around and is now probably upstairs suffering. I just can't help it, though.

He's, like, the finest man I've ever seen in my entire life. Even half of the younger male teachers in high school pale compared to him.

I force my eyes away, giving my head a little shake in annoyance at myself. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Don't go there. He probably sees you as this little girl anyway. Fuck, he probably even has a sister your age. It's stupid!

"Where do these go?" I'm so busy having a mental pep-talk inside my head that I almost jump out of my skin when I suddenly hear him talk to me.

"Huh?" I ask idiotically.

"The plates. Where do you and your mother usually put them?"

"Oh, um..." I jerk my head towards the cabinet behind us, purposefully making sure I don't look at him. "Just over there, behind us. The fourth shelf in the rack."

"Right. So you don't have any plans on what you want to do after high school? Not even any vague plans?" I have no idea why he is so interested in my future plans, but maybe he is just trying to be polite and show interest to get into my Mom's good graces?

"Yep, no plans as yet. But I'm only seventeen. I figure I have loads of time to figure that out."

"Well, you better hurry." His shoulder brushes up against me when he reaches over to the last plate to wipe up. "Time flies. Before you'll know it, you will run out of time to figure out what it is that you really want to do with yourself."

I shrug, not really concerned either way. "Maybe, you're right. But I was thinking about maybe taking some time off to go travelling. Or maybe... going to college. I don't really know as yet. What I do know, is that I'm real big on literature and English. Maybe I could find something to do revolving around that?" My voice is too quiet and nervous, and I absolutely hate it. I don't want to sound like some child who can't make up her own mind, especially not in front of him.

"And do you have a boyfriend?" I think I hear him ask.

I almost flip-out. Whoa. Why the hell would he want to know that, unless... he was somewhat interested?

I slip up, scrutinizing his face carefully. He meets my gaze, his head cocked to the side. Again, he makes me feel as though I'm such an interesting person to him. Like I'm somebody he just can't figure out. I love it. But really, he simply seems as though he is asking out of curiosity, like he is just being nice and trying to get to know me. Probably simply for my Mom's sake, not mine. Not because he is interested in me in any way. Besides, he's almost a thirty year old, grown man. What reason could he have to possibly ever be interested in me, a school girl, who still gets gross zits? Not that I'm not enjoying the attention, though...

I consider lying, telling him that I do have a boyfriend. But really, wouldn't that be kind of pointless? No boy has ever asked me out in school, not once. Kate, on the other hand... all the boys seem to go for her. Probably because she is so ballsy and outgoing and blonde, whereas I'm more reserved and fixated on my school work half the time.

I know what Kate's answer would be to this, and how she would act. I know Kate perfectly, and all the boys seem to go for her. So, taking a leaf out of her book, I try to seem cool.

"Why do you want to know whether I have a boyfriend?" I ask, embarrassingly breathless. "Are you interested?"

His reaction to that is something I don't quite understand. He tears his eyes away, a slight frown there. Great, I think I've gone and screwed it up, made him feel uncomfortable. "I'm not so sure why I asked," he mutters with a shrug. "I suppose I just want to know."

"No, I don't have a boyfriend," I answer quickly. "I'm more focused on studying and getting good grades. Besides, I like older mature men. No guys my age really interest me. Well, not the ones in school anyhow. They're so... emotionally immature, you know?" There, I can act grown-up.

Christian nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer. Then a wry smile forms. "But serial killers and perverts are an instant deal breaker," he says, kind of joking, referring to our conversation in the car.

"Yes, that's right." I laugh nervously. "Potential serial killers and perverts are an immediate deal breaker."

He smiles at me, showing me his straight teeth, and I get so flustered that I can hardly remember what I'm doing. I go to keep washing up the cutlery, and that's when it happens. Since the water is so soapy with detergent, I misjudge where one of the knives are, and I feel the blade slice straight through my finger in a horrible pricking sensation that makes me gasp out loud.

I draw my hand out of the water immediately, checking my finger. Water always makes cuts seem worse, because already, I see the red watery blood there on my forefinger, and I start to feel woozy. Me and blood have never mixed all too well, and I feel my throat tighten.

"What happened?" Christian asks, probably noticing my sudden change of mood and the way I'm holding my finger. "Are you all right?" When I glance up at his face again, he appears startling concerned.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. I just accidentally sliced my finger on one of the knives I was washing up. I thought it was the handle, but clearly not."

To my relief, he doesn't seem affected by blood in anyway. He brushes past me to empty out the sink of water, picking all cutlery out and putting them on top of the sink, while I hold onto my cut finger. My hands won't seem to quit shaking. While I know it isn't a serious cut and I'm reacting rather overboard, its just the sight of blood that gets to me the most. When I squeeze down on it with my thumb, even more blood oozes out. Yeah, its definitely not good for me.

"Show me," he says, it sounding like an order. "Let me have a good look."

Standing closer near me, I feel my stomach muscles clench when he takes my hand, holding it up near his face to have a better look at my cut. Then he turns and runs warm water into the sink, and tells me to hold my bleeding finger under it for a second while he searches for some band-aids.

"This isn't the first time I've done this," I say, deliberately looking away from my finger while I hold it under the spray of water. It stings, but it isn't too painful. "I can be real clumsy sometimes. The band-aids are in the last drawer."

At last finding them, he grabs one out of the box while turning the water off.

"Keep your hand still for a second," he commands, and doing something that makes me feel crazily embarrassed, he tears a corner of the packaging on the band-aid open by his teeth.

Stupid as it probably is of me to think, I find it super hot, everything; The way he tore the corner of the band-aid packaging open with his teeth, how concerned and attentive he is being over a small cut on my finger. I hold my finger out to him, my entire hand shaking pathetically. Now that my finger isn't wet or covered in watery blood anymore, the cut actually doesn't seem as severe as it first did. I had definitely been over-exaggerating, but oh well. As for Christian, he seems to be taking it seriously.

I notice the way his eyes alternate between glancing down at both my finger while he smooths the band-aid over it, to my face again. He licks his lips and god, I never knew I could be so silly over a man before. I definitely have never felt this way before. While he may simply be doing a good thing in helping me by putting a band-aid on my finger, its strangely... intimate to me. Well, it feels more intimate than what it probably is meant to be.

Once the band-aid is one completely, he looks up at me again, a mischievous smile there. "Do you want me to kiss it better for you now, too?" he breathes, and if he's trying to seem patronizing towards me, it certainly doesn't sound that way. His tone of voice is both playful, and... something else. Hopeful, maybe? Maybe he's hoping I'll actually say yes? Or maybe I'm just reading more into it than I should be?

"Um... that... that's a really strange question," I say apprehensively with a short bark of laughter. "I mean, did... do you want to kiss it better?"

"Well, that all ultimately depends on you, Ana. After all, I wouldn't dream of doing something you didn't want me to do?"

Oh, my god. Is he flirting with me?

"I don't really think there is anything that I wouldn't like for you to do to me," I whisper foolishly without sense. God, what am I doing right now? Really, it seems as though he is flirting with me. I mean, he has to be, right? Then again, it isn't like full-grown men flirt with me every day...

He nods once, and then, with his eyes on nothing else but mine, he brings my finger up towards his mouth. When my finger touches his lips, he closes them over it, kissing my fingertip quickly in a way that makes my heart pound furiously. But just as quickly, he pulls my hand down and glances away, putting a reasonable amount of distance between us. When I catch sight of his face again nervously, I think he looks almost ashamed for some reason. Ashamed? What for, though?

But all of this has only served to seal the deal. For the first time in all my seventeen years of life, I actually find myself having a crush on somebody. Once Kate hears about all of this at school tomorrow, she was going to flip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews and the alerts I've received. It means a lot to me.**

 **Firstly, I own nothing to do with the 50 Shades Trilogy. It belongs rightfully to the wonderful E. L. James** **. Hopefully you'll find some enjoyment in the story anyway.**

* * *

 _Chapter 3_

Since the dishes are away and there is really nothing else to be done, Christian gets his jacket and slips it on, fixing himself to leave. After him kissing my band-aid covered finger and being playful, I feel strange. Hyped-up with adrenaline or as though I've just drank three cans of Red Bull flat. Usually, I don't have such difficulty knowing how to act around somebody. But with him, I find it difficult most of all. Most adults don't leave me feeling this way.

"I think I should probably leave," he says after a moment.

My heart deflates at that. I feel way more sad about him leaving than I probably ought to. "Sure, fine. Don't forget your bottle of wine, by the way." Making myself useful, I screw the cap back on the wine bottle that is sitting on the table. "You'll probably want to take it with you."

"No, its fine. You can keep it here. Besides your mother seemed to enjoy it." Christian smiles at me and I have to glance away quickly. After him kissing my finger better, looking him directly in the eye seems intolerable.

"Yeah, I don't think my Mom will be drinking anymore of it any time soon," I say lightheartedly. "Especially not with how hammered it quickly made her. She sounded so embarrassed when I had to take her upstairs, the poor thing." Despite how worried I am for Mom, I laugh weakly, still refusing to look at him. "But thanks. She'll appreciate that." I carry the wine with me over to the refrigerator, putting it inside the shelf to cool. "Thanks for helping me with putting a band-aid on my finger, too," I add, remembering I hadn't exactly thanked him for it. Him sort of flirting with me and kissing my finger kind of took any words of gratitude that I could have had out of my mouth though.

When I let myself to peek up at his face, I see he is already watching me, looking vaguely amused. "You're very welcome," he says quietly. "Tell your mother that since I have her number, I will give her a call sometime. Hopefully when she feels better from the wine."

I nod a couple of times, while wringing my hands out in front of me nervously. "Oh, sure thing," I agree lamely. "I'll tell her that, for sure." _Why does it feel so awkward right now? He makes me feel like an instant idiot..._

"So its been difficult for your mother?" Christian asks me unexpectedly.

"What has?"

"The divorce with your father. It's been incredibly hard on her?"

The way he asks it, it would seem Mom has talked to him a lot about the divorce with my father. I guess it shouldn't surprise me; It has probably been good for her to have somebody like him to talk to. "Well, she doesn't really talk to me much about my dad and what she is feeling half the time," I admit. "I think she likes to pretend that she's fine, but... sometimes its obvious that she isn't. She didn't take the news of him remarrying very well. She went all quiet and shut herself off into another room when she found out."

I let myself look at his face again. He nods at me with a surprisingly understanding look. A part of me gets the suspicion that he feels sorry for me on some level. "And have you met her? The new wife?"

"Actually, no, I haven't yet. I hear she's very... outdoorsy though. Or so my father has told me on the phone. He seems happy with her though so... I guess that's something, huh?"

"And you don't see your father very much?" I have no idea why he cares so much. _Why should he care about my life and my parents?_

"Him and my Mom got divorced when I was around three and I don't really remember all of what happened, to be honest. He seems too... preoccupied with his camping lifestyle and travelling to see me. He mainly calls every three months or so to ask how I'm doing or... how school is. He sends me birthday cards sometimes, too. That's really about it, though."

"So he has never asked to see you or came to visit?"

"Yep, that's essentially it. He'll send me photos of the locations he has traveled to though. But really, I don't mind so much. I mean, I could never leave school just to go travelling constantly with him. Plus, I think Mom is the best parent for me." He is staring at me as though he is trying to desperately understand what I'm saying on a deeper level. I really don't get why him, of all people, would give a shit into my family situation, though. "Why all the questions?" I ask, weirded-out. "Why do you want to know about my parents so much?"

"I don't know. I'm just curious."

"And what about you? You said you were... adopted?"

"Yes, I was," he says shortly. Apparently he doesn't feel its cool for me to pry about his parents. "I was adopted."

"You ever wonder who your real parents were?" I ask, curiously. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like, being adopted. "Have you ever tried to contact them?"

"I haven't needed to. I know my biological mother is dead." The way he speaks so coldly of his real Mom's death startles me. It's like he doesn't even care, or like he is talking about somebody else's mother and not his. "As far as I am concerned, the parents I have now _are_ my real parents. You don't have any brothers or sisters?"

"Yeah, no. I'm an only child unfortunately. What about you?"

"I have two siblings. Both younger." He shrugs. "A little sister and a little brother."

 _Damn, he has a sister._ I want to ask how old she is, though I find myself petrified to really find out. _What if she is just as old as me? Or... older even?_ I think that would suck.

"Right. And are your parents divorced?"

"No, they are still happily married. My mother is a pediatrician while my father is a lawyer."

"Ah, a lawyer." For some reason, that makes me laugh. I just remember accusing him of looking like a lawyer when he gave me a lift home from school. "And there I was, accusing you of being the lawyer when really, it was your dad all along..."

"Yes," he says, with a laugh. "Very close guess." He peers down at his watch on his wrist before throwing a glance behind him at the front door. "Well, I should really be going. It's almost eleven, and I think it is safe to assume that _somebody_ has school tomorrow." Just like that, he makes me feel like a small kid. Before, when asking me about my parents and their situation, he had made me feel more than the age I was, like I was somebody truly worth getting to know. _And now... I'm just that school girl again._

When I try to give him a rude look, he lets me know he is simply playing by grinning at me.

I bite down on my lip to make myself not grin back. "Sure. I'll show you out then." I try to sound more affronted than I truly am. "Good riddance that you are leaving."

"Oh. Does my being here annoy you that much?"

Again, I can't tell whether he is flirting with me or if he is simply being friendly.

"I'm sorry, I'm probably intruding and making you miss out on valuable Facebook time. That _is_ what children your age do nowadays, isn't it? Go on Facebook obsessively?" While he obviously is trying to be funny, it only rubs me the wrong way.

 _Children my age?_

"I don't have a Facebook account," I point out seriously. It's true; I really don't. My bestie Kate keeps trying to get me to create one, but I really don't want to. I want to be my own person, not a sheep and a follower. "So I wouldn't really know either way just what it is that _children my age_ do or don't do in their spare time."

As we reach the front door and I pull it open for him, he turns around to glance down at me. He's obviously getting a kick out of annoying me; There's amusement there glistening away in his eyes and I think he is trying hard not to smile.

"Then you're probably the only seventeen year old in the world that doesn't have a Facebook page. How impressive." He slips up with his composure, laughing at me. Oddly enough, I don't mind being the butt of his jokes, if it means seeing him smile and laugh the way he does. He's so yummy that its super unfair. "I know my sister Mia is crazy about Facebook. Her eyes are literally attached to the screen of her phone most of the time."

"Yeah, well. My Mom always says that I'm something of an old soul." _Just to throw that out there in the water..._ "Just because I'm seventeen, it doesn't mean I can't be... mature and act like an adult when I need to."

Finally, that comment seems to sober him up. He stops grinning at me to look at me in a more serious way, which is good. At least he is taking me seriously now. "Thank your mother for the dinner and the enjoyable evening for me," he simply says, though it seems he would rather say something else instead. "I hope she feels better soon."

"I will." Conscious of how stupid I'm being, I step back inside. "It was nice meeting you anyway."

"Yes, you too, Ana."

I don't want to be some weird girl just standing there watching him leave longingly, so I force myself inside, closing the front door. As I lock up, I sigh at the pathetic feeling overtaking me. God, I actually feel sad. Sad that he has left. How stupid can I be? Why should I feel that sad over a guy leaving?

It's just that maybe I like having someone like him around for once. Someone who seems to treat me like an actual adult, yet is playful, at the same time. He seemed as though he wanted to get to know me and, for me, that isn't usually something that happens for me very often. The attention was just really nice; Having somebody ask me question as though they wanted to understand me, as though I'm someone worthy of getting to know.

But seeing as its highly unlikely I will ever be seeing him again, I force myself to squash any thoughts of him aside.

I switch off all the lights in the house before heading upstairs to check on Mom. The instance I stick my head into her room, I can hear her breathing heavily. Poor Mom has already crashed, probably due to the wine. I tread over towards where she is laying as quietly as possible, dragging the blanket up higher over her shoulders so she won't get any cold drafts. She seems comfy enough, so I move around her bed to turn the lamp off so she can sleep in the dark.

Once inside my bedroom, I close my door, leaning against it for a moment.

Weirdly enough, I don't feel tired at all. I feel highly strung, like I've been drinking caffeine all night long. There is this strange funny feeling in my stomach, a weird tenderness there. When I think the whole day over, of school and handing in my English assignment, and... my mother's date Christian being considerate enough to pick me up from school and saving me from having to walk home in the pouring rain... Helping me put on a band-aid after I stupidly sliced my finger while washing up the knives, of all things...

I smile to myself as I glance down at my finger, squishing the plastic of the band-aid with my thumb and forefinger.

What was I thinking, really? To assume that a really fine guy like him would ever be flirting with me? In my defense, I don't think anybody has ever flirted with me before, certainly not any boys at school. I can hardly differentiate the difference between him simply being friendly, or flirting with me and being interested. Really, he's almost a thirty-year-old. How on earth could anyone that perfect like him possibly be interested in a dorky girl like me?

Squishing the band-aid one last time brutally- enough to cause the cut to sting just to give myself an admonishing wake-up call- I trudge over to my dresser to get changed for bed. When I fall down into bed, crashing my head into the pillow, even then in the darkness I hardly feel tired. I feel wide awake. My mind is running like a hamster in a wheel. Mom told him about what happened with my Dad remarrying, and obviously... Mom is way more upset about it than she wants me to see.

* * *

"Ana, honey. You know the drill! It's time to get up!"

Like every morning, I'm woken by Mom shouting outside my door. _Who needs an alarm clock when they have a mother to growl at them every morning into getting up?_

"Okay, Mom," I shout at her while throwing the blankets off me hurriedly. "I'm up now, I promise."

I want nothing more than to just get back under the covers and sleep all day. My eyes feel all heavy and I have to blink a couple of times to actually wake myself up properly. I feel like I'm dredging through a misty cloud. It feels as though I haven't slept even an hour. But since I have to go to school, I force myself out of bed. After getting dressed and tying up my shoe laces, I get downstairs, entering the kitchen with a yawn to find Mom sitting in her usual chair at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of coffee in both hands. Mom looks just as half-asleep as I feel, though I bet she is suffering a pounding headache because I've heard that is what happens when you drink too much the night before.

"Morning, honey." She smiles at me apologetically. "I'm so sorry about last night. Did you show Christian out all right?"

"Yeah, Mom. It was fine. He left some of the wine for you in the fridge just in case you wanted some more, actually."

"Goodness, no." Mom shudders and makes a face of disgust, and I can't help laughing at her. "After last night and my terrible behavior? Never again, honey. That was sweet of him to bother doing that, though. That wine was really lovely, but as I said, never again, Ana. I'll stick with my coffee."

I can feel Mom's eyes on me curiously as I get some bread and the butter out of the refrigerator to make myself some lunch. When I meet her gaze, I arch my eyebrows at her questioningly. "What's up, Mom? What?"

"Well, what did you think of him? Of Christian, I mean?"

I feel the blood rush up to my cheeks as I avoid her eyes with a shrug. "Yeah, he was... pretty cool," I say nonchalantly. "He was nice." _What am I supposed to say other than that?_ I don't really want to brag to Mom about how ridiculously good-looking I found him. Crush-worthy, is definitely the word for him. And charming. And hot. And... funny, with how he would tease me. Possibly flirt with me. "You know, he, um... he told me that you found what happened with my father difficult? You talked to him about my father?"

Her face twists with emotion as she peers down at the coffee in her mug. "Well, _of course_ I told him about your father, honey. When you intend to... meet someone new, you have to share all your... baggage, so to speak. It's only fair that they know the full story."

I don't even know the full story of why my parents chose to divorce when I was three. Mom just hates speaking about it with me. She's never told me, not once. "So... how come you never talk to me properly about what happened between you and my father?" I ask, hurt. Mom and I have always been close, so I can't see why we can't talk about my father together.

"I suppose I didn't feel it was right, to talk to you about it. I mean, Ray is your father. I don't want to bad-mouth him to you. I don't want it to be awkward every time he called you to talk and check in, as he does."

"And why would you feel the need to bad-mouth him to me, Mom? What did he do to you that hurt you that badly?"

"I'm sorry, Ana," she mumbles, avoiding my gaze. "It's just something I don't feel all that comfortable talking to you about. Ray is your father, and he loves you. I don't want to force an impression onto you, all due to the way things happened between us. What happened between Ray and I, its between us. Not you, honey."

"Why can't you _just tell me_ , Mom? Just tell me what it is that he did to hurt you that badly that you felt the need to divorce him all those years ago?"

"Ana, that's enough. _Please_. I'm hardly in the mood for this right now."

"Fine," I say sharply. I slather butter onto my bread quickly, before stowing it away into my lunchbox. "Don't talk to me about it then." Grabbing my school bag, I shove my lunch in hurriedly. "Anyway, I'm walking to school early. I won't be home until after seven tonight. I have the movie with Kate. Remember?"

"Okay, honey. Do you have enough money on you?"

"Yes, I do. I'll be fine." I bend down to kiss her goodbye briskly, and her eyes focus on the band-aid on my finger.

"What happened to your finger?" she asks, her voice softening dramatically with concern. "Did you do something to it?"

"Yeah, I just cut it by accident while washing up last night. Christian helped me with putting a band-aid on it. It's no biggie, Mom."

"Ana." Her voice is scolding. "You really need to take more care, honey."

"And you _really need to stop_ withholding information from me and start telling me what truly happened with my father," I reply, before walking out towards the front door.

I can't help it; Her keeping things from me hurts me. We have always had a close mother-daughter bond, yet she can't tell me the truth on why she divorced my father all those years ago, or... no less, how much she is hurting still due to it? What am I? This fragile little girl who can't take it?

Halfway down the road, I spot Kate waiting for me while she sits up on the wall enclosing somebodies house. At least I can always rely on Kate to tell me nothing but the truth. She's always honest with me, even if its about something that will hurt my feelings. " _Someone_ still has a zit on her face," she says through laughter while jumping off the wall.

 _My point in case precisely._ Kate just doesn't care what she says to me.

"Fuck you," I say back to her, though I can't help smiling.

"How did last night go with Carla's date coming over for dinner?" she asks with interest as we start on our daily walk. "What was he like? Gross and bald, or what?"

"Neither. He was actually neither gross nor bald, Kate."

"So? How did it go then? Did Carla and him hook up?"

I find myself feeling strangely irritated at the thought of my Mom hooking up with Christian. Not that I have any good right to be. "No, they didn't hook up. But poor Mom had too many glasses of wine so she had to cut the night short. She crashed, and then left me there to deal with him."

Kate laughs shortly in shock. "Oh, no. Poor Carla."

"Yeah, poor Mom."

"So... what was he like?"

I feel myself flush. How am I meant to adequately put that into words?

"What, Ana?" Kate asks suspiciously, linking her arm through mine. "What's with the sudden coyness?"

 _Oh, what the hell?_ "I thought he was actually really cute."

"Really? You thought your Mom's date was cute?" She looks me over in disbelief. "Um, okay. Seeing as I haven't ever heard you call a guy cute before, that's a pretty big thing for you. But isn't he your Mom's age, give or take a few years?"

"He's thirty. He's... younger than Mom."

" _Thirty_? God, Ana. No offense, but that's kind of... gross, don't you think? I mean, he's half your age!"

"So what?" I burst out defensively. "What does it matter about age? Age is just a number." Okay, so maybe I'm getting _a little too_ defensive. I just feel strongly about the subject. "Besides he didn't seem like an... old thirty-year old, if that even makes any sense? Like, he was really funny and he... he was teasing me."

"Teasing you?"

"Well, yeah. And I accidentally cut my finger and after he put the band-aid on, he asked if I wanted him to kiss it better. I said yes."

Kate laughs at me, almost hysterically. "You said yes? And _did_ he?"

I feel my face flame with heat as I smile so widely that my mouth starts to hurt. "He did. He kissed my finger for, like, the briefest second. I think he was just doing it to be funny. I think I actually have a crush on him."

"Do you want him to fuck you?" she asks me with a completely straight face. Kate lost her virginity when she was fifteen to one of her boyfriends at the time, who was also fifteen. He still goes to school with us, but ever since they broke up, they don't talk much anymore. I never even once ever thought Kate would be asking me this.

"I don't know. All I know, is that I think I have a crush on him. I know it's _so wrong_ since he is practically getting to know my Mom. I wouldn't say I want that with him exactly... I don't know." Suddenly the conversation about him screwing me feels too uncomfortable on me, so I deliberately change subject, "We're still on for the movie tonight, right?"

"Of course. Straight after school."

"Great," I manage, still feeling funny. That weird feeling in my chest has returned again, the butterflies, at the mere turn of our conversation. "The movie should be good."

 **Hope this one was okay and that you are still interested? I would love to know your thoughts, they made my day.**

 **:)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Again I don't own anything to do with the 50 Shades Trilogy. I'm just a massive fan here.**

 **Thank you so much for the alerts I have received, as well as the comments. Sorry I took a while to update. I've been busy working hectically, so it has been hard to find the time to update and write. Hoping this isn't bad.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4**_

After school, Kate and I walk towards the movies. Halfway down the road, a group of boys whistle from through the gaps in their car windows and Kate faces them to flip the bird at the group of them rudely so that they see. They shout a few rude things at her, but Kate just shrugs it off, laughing. Kate has always been like that, really; So outgoing and amazing and ballsy.

"God, what total dorks," she says to me in disgust once the guys disappear down the street in their car. "God, _some people_ , Ana..."

"You always get the guys, don't you?" I say to her with a laugh. It's true though; All the boys seem to like her. Always her. I suppose I can't blame them. In fact, in some ways, I am so envious of her.

"What are you talking about?" she asks in confusion. "They were probably whistling at you, too?"

"Yeah, right."

"Why wouldn't they? You're pretty."

I feel myself flush. "No, I'm not," I disagree, while yanking my hair tie out of my hair and brushing the strands out with my fingers to cover my ears. "You're the pretty one. I mean, have you even noticed the amount of guys at school that literally drool at you every time you walk past?"

" _Someone's_ a little jealous," Kate says, but she bumps her shoulder against mine to show me she is teasing. "You just need to get more confidence in yourself, Ana. Start believing that you are hot, and then eventually, all the guys will think you are as well. It goes both ways." She eyes my jumper and jeans combo in a way that makes me feel self-conscious. "You know, maybe you should try dressing a bit differently? I mean, you have the body for it. Why not wear clothes that don't hide it?"

I try not to look too wounded. "You think that's what I just need? A wardrobe change?"

"Yeah. It makes all the difference." I suppose Kate would know; She's always been way more stylish than I have ever been. Kate coordinates her outfits really well, and she doesn't care about showing some cleavage or skin. "Maybe if we find you something a bit more revealing and less... frumpy, then you wouldn't feel so down on yourself?"

I guess Kate is right. I have always been insecure. I don't think there has been a time where I haven't been. My skin isn't perfect, and I get zits on my chin a lot, something that is probably just hormonal and not anything I can change. I don't feel very comfortable in my skin. I'm lanky and all elbows and knees half the time. I guess I don't feel all that up to dressing like the other girls do in my grade, where they show off their skin. I prefer the more laid-back, simple style

Instead of heading straight to the movies, we take a detour into the mall instead. Kate forces me to go into a vintage shop where they sell reasonably cheap clothes, and she gets me to try on different tops that I usually never would have once gone for. I think maybe she is right though; One of the tops, which is sleeveless and a light green, actually doesn't look too bad on me. My arms aren't as gross as I had always thought they were, and it really does make a bit of a difference.

"See?" Kate says in approval, once I head out of the change room to show her the top. "This is exactly the type of clothes you should wear, Ana. No fucking boring, frumpy clothes that granny's would wear. It actually makes you look more mature, too."

 _It makes me look more mature?_ If so, then I'm definitely buying it.

"Now what you just need," she says while delving through her school bag, "is to wear some of this." She pulls out her lip-gloss that has a red tint to it, and coming closer, she forces me into letting her apply it on me. Once I spin around to glance at myself in the mirror nervously, it really is amazing what a new top and a bit of bright lip-gloss will do to you. "Great. You should totally wear that top out tonight while we head to the movies, okay?"

"Okay," I agree, letting her shove my old jumper and shirt in my bag. "Are you sure my arms don't look too bad though?" I ask her skeptically, folding them over my stomach.

Kate makes a frustrated noise as she meets my gaze in the mirror. "Ana, your fucking paranoid. You are skinny, and your arms look great. Stop talking down on yourself, its really fucking annoying."

"Fine," I surrender, giving in. "I'll try to stop the negativity."

But even as I pay for my new top and we get back out into the mall, I still feel insecure. I want to put my jumper back on, but Kate just keeps giving me an annoyed look, like I'm being so ridiculous. And maybe she is right? I'm really not as ugly or as bad as I initially thought I was.

As we finally reach the movies and head inside to get in line to buy our tickets, that insecurity over my arms seems to disappear now that we have coverage in a building. Kate swears I'm the most insecure person she's ever met, but still, I'll feel happy once we are in the theater in the dark. We pay to see the comedy together that we have wanted to see for a while, and as I go to pay and order popcorn, suddenly I become aware of the voices from the two people standing behind me, waiting in line.

 _It's him! Christian!_ What are the odds that he would be seeing a movie at the same time I was?

He's standing with a girl that looks a bit younger than me, trying to talk to her while she types on her phone to someone. Instantly, I recall our conversation last night about his sister, Mia. She doesn't really look in anyway like him, but then he said he was adopted, didn't he? He definitely wasn't kidding then, about how her eyes are practically glued to her phone. I'm too flustered all of a sudden at his apparition to realize that the person behind the counter is waiting for me to grab my popcorn and leave so that they can be served next.

Unfortunately, it just serves to bring his attention in front of him, to me.

He raises his eyebrows at me, in surprise I think. Feeling idiotic, I hastily grab my box of popcorn before moving away, feeling my cheeks burning. I cannot believe we had the same idea in mind though, to see a movie at this time of the afternoon! Is this, like, a sign that we are meant to be or what?

I catch up with Kate as she stands around waiting for me by the movie posters. I know I probably look suspiciously weird as I glance back at Christian quickly, because she follows my gaze as well, eyeing him up and down. "Who's that?" she asks quietly. "Do you know that guy or something?"

"Actually, he's the guy I was telling you about," I mumble under my breath. "You know, Christian. The guy that came to dinner last night for my Mom."

"You think _he's_ hot?" Kate says, far too loud for my liking. " _He's_ the one?"

I shush her quickly before sending a nervous look into his direction again. He is looking our way, smiling. His sister still hasn't taken her eyes off the screen of her phone. Crap, though. Did he hear Kate say that? Damn Kate and her loud mouth!

"Let's walk and get into the cinema," I whisper to her, my voice an undercurrent of dangerous warning. Once we start up the steps to the second floor, I punch her in the arm.

"Ouch, Ana. What the hell was that for?"

"You bitch," I spit at her, though half-serious. "Could you be anymore embarrassing? I'm pretty sure he heard you just then! God, now what must he think?"

"I bet he's flattered." Kate shrugs, clearly not getting it. In her defense, Kate is used to just being straightforward and letting a guy she likes know that she's hot for him.

"Still, you are _so embarrassing_ , Kate!"

"Fuck, Ana. You really need to loosen up a little," she retorts back in defense for herself. "Besides, it isn't like I told him to his face that you wanted to bone him!"

"I don't want to bone him," I correct her uneasily, feeling the heat gush over both my face and chest. "I just think he's gorgeous. That's it."

"Yeah, well. It's pretty much the same fucking thing, Ana."

Our fight only ends once we head into the cinema to find a seat. We sit up at the front, as we always like to do when we see a movie together. It's always easier to see the movie that way.

"Who was that girl with him?" Kate asks curiously once we sit. She spreads out her legs, her hand already diving into her box of popcorn. She crunches on some noisily. "Was she, like, his girlfriend?"

"Um, no. I'm pretty sure she's just his younger sister. She looked a little too young to be his girlfriend, don't you think?"

"Whatever. But you should maybe ask him out on a date or something?"

I snort, digging into my popcorn myself. "Yeah, because he'd really be interested in going out on a date with me. Plus, that's kind of wrong, isn't it? For all I know, he might still be seeing Mom."

Much to my relief, the lights dim and the movie begins which puts an abrupt end to our horrible conversation.

Ninety-eight minutes later, the movie has ended and we head back out of the cinema. Throwing our empty boxes in the bin, I almost feel like turning right back around and hiding back in the cinema, when I see Christian exiting the cinema next to us with his sister in tow. Yet again, his sister is playing with her phone. When he tries to talk to her again, I think he looks almost irritated that she isn't responding back. My mouth seems to go weirdly dry when suddenly he looks back in our direction, his stroll faltering slightly. Crap, he isn't thinking of coming over and saying hello, is he?

How hot can a guy be, though? He's wearing dark blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a white button-up shirt today. I think he looks even better than he did last night at Mom's house, impossible as that seems. I feel that strange butterfly sensation infect me when it occurs to me that, yes, just to my bad luck, he is planning to come over to say hi to me. I guess its really only polite.

I feel like I'm breathing too loudly when he finally reaches us, and he slips one hand out of his jean pocket to extend his hand out to me. "Ana, here we are, meeting again." He says it almost warmly.

"Yeah. Imagine that."

I move forward, shaking his hand, trying not to appear too bothered by it all. _Is it obvious to him how much I like him?_ Judging by the almost amused smile on his face, it seems so. Not to mention how Kate just screamed it out barely over two hours ago. He was bound to have heard her.

"What movie did you just see?" he asks me with interest.

I blab the name out nervously as his eyes flicker to Kate. He offers his hand for her to shake as well. Unsurprisingly, Kate doesn't bother shaking it. Lack of manners, that girl.

"This rude person is Kate, my friend from school," I explain awkwardly when Kate just stares at him. She hardly appears flustered by him at all. I don't know whether she finds him as hot as I do, but... she's hiding it very admirably well. That's Katherine for you, though; I suppose she has had a lot of more experience with this than I have.

"Kate?" He gives her a smile. "How do you do? It's very nice meeting you, also." He turns back to glance behind his shoulder at where his little sister is standing on the spot, still texting on her phone. He shakes his head at her in dismay. "Don't mind my sister. It's as I told you last night. Half the time, its a challenge getting her off her phone for even one hour."

He brings his gaze back onto me again while shoving both hands into his jean pockets, and I know I'm blushing something crazy. I feel incredibly shy. And stupid. And awkward.

"How is Carla feeling after last night? I trust she is feeling better after having drank all of those glasses of wine?"

"Um, yeah. She had a bit of a hangover this morning, but all in all, she was fine." I nod once, unsure of what more to say. What else do I say? Christian's eyes drift down to my hands as I fiddle with them nervously in front of me. I glance down too, clenching my fingers, trying to make them stop. I really wish I had some of Kate's endless confidence when talking to males.

"How is the finger after last night?" he asks, and finally, I get why he is so focused on my fingers the way he is. My band-aid is still on, covering my sliced finger. The one he kissed better last night.

"It's better," I say, a bit too breathlessly. _Especially after you applied the band-aid yourself and kissed it._ "It doesn't hurt at all."

"Good," he nods once. He moves back a few steps. "Well, it was good seeing you again, Ana." He's saying goodbye.

"Yes. You too, Christian."

After he walks back to where his sister is, I can't seem to stop staring at him as he goes. His tight denim jeans really suit him.

"You too, Christian," Kate mocks at my side, in an exaggeratedly breathless voice. "God, Ana. Could you be anymore fucking obvious?"

"Really? I was that obvious?"

"Um, yeah," she laughs, bumping against me. "Your eyes were like literally screaming for him to fuck you."

Her teasing just only rubs me the wrong way. While I know Kate is just being silly, its annoying. "Well, what about you, Kate?"

"What about me?"

"Is it so hard for you not to be so rude to somebody for once? Particularly adults?"

"Hey, I'm allowed to do whatever I want. If he gets insulted by that, then screw him. At least I wasn't the one all lusty-eyed with him..."

"I wasn't lusty-eyed!" I argue back.

"Um, yeah, you were. And I'm pretty damn sure he was lusty-eyed, too."

"Grow up, Kate," I grumble at her. _God, sometimes I really hate her. Why have a best friend, when they insist on embarrassing you, particularly in front of the guy they know you like and want to make a good impression with?_

* * *

Once I get home, I hear Mom in the kitchen, fussing around with making dinner while the TV is on full-blast. The news is on, something Mom loves to watch while she prepares dinner. She always complains to me that she can't hear the news if the TV isn't up on its highest volume otherwise.

"Mom, I'm home," I call, before dumping my bag on the floor in the hallway.

"Hey, honey," she calls back over the loud noise. "How was the movie with Kate?"

I head into the kitchen, finding her cutting and peeling vegetables. "Yeah, it was good. The movie was really funny." I don't know whether I should tell her about running into Christian or not. But considering he is possibly going to be her boyfriend in life, I decide I probably should. "Guess who we ran into, of all people, while we were there?"

"Who?" She asks, watching me with confusion.

"Your date from last night. Christian. He was there, seeing a movie with his sister, too. He asked about you." And I may have been totally admiring him while I was at it...

"Oh, really? He asked about me?" Her face breaks out into a smile. "Well, that was rather nice of him."

"Yeah, he asked how you were feeling after last night when you passed out drunk from all those glasses of wine." I can't resist rubbing it into her face, yet again. I just can't.

She makes a face, still embarrassed over her display of weird behavior last night. "God, Ana. You aren't going to let me forget that anytime soon, are you?"

"Never, Mom," I admit with a smile. "There's not a chance in hell that I will ever let you forget that anytime soon." But Mom smiles back with a disapproving shake of her head, so I know she isn't truly mad at me.

"Remember how I told you how proud I was of you last week? That I said you were a great daughter?" She arches her brows at me while she starts peeling some onions. "Well, I take that back, Ana."

"Oh, come on, Mom. I'm just kidding."

"I know you are, honey. I would hope you wouldn't be that mean. We all make mistakes, after all."

"Yeah, and you just picked the worst time possible last night to make one." My heart freezes, as I remember our conversation this morning. Mom and I don't argue very often, and I do hate it when we do. "Sorry about this morning," I tell her, frowning. "I was just annoyed that you keep withholding things from me, particularly about dad."

"Yes, and I'm sorry too, honey." She looks at me so I know she is sincere while she scrunches all of the onion peels in her hands to quickly dispose of them in the bin. "I know it isn't fair on you. But someday you'll understand." As she doubles back from tossing the scraps in the bin, she looks at my outfit with more interest. "I haven't seen that top before, honey. Is that new? Did you and Kate get up to some shopping in the mall before you went to the movies?"

"We did." I shrug. "But don't worry; We just went into one of the cheap vintage stores. It didn't cost much." Lately, we have been real tight with money. I suggested to Mom about me thinking about applying for some jobs to help her out, but Mom flat-out refused, saying she wanted me to focus mainly on studying for now. I still feel bad about it sometimes though.

"It looks nice on you. That color suits you, honey."

I roll my eyes, dismissing her comment while covering my arms with my hands self-consciously. "I don't know. I hate my arms."

"Ana," she says in warning. "You're fine, honey. There is _absolutely nothing_ wrong with your arms, or any other part of you for that matter. You're beautiful."

"Yeah, and that's just something you're obliged to say, because you're my Mom."

"That's not true," she laughs, shaking her head vehemently. "I wish you wouldn't be so hard on yourself." I focus on her more carefully as I stare at her in doubt. There is something different about her. Her face looks different. Then I realize it's the lipstick she is wearing. Mom hardly wears lipstick, unless on special occasions where she wants to impress somebody.

"Mom?" I say suspiciously. "Are you wearing lipstick? Since when?"

She shrugs her shoulders, somewhat embarrassed. "I just simply felt like a change. I actually had another invitation on my dating profile to head out to lunch today with a fellow in the area. I met another gentleman."

I feel my heart stop in my chest. This is news to me. I'm glad that Mom has gotten so many requests for dates and dinners though, because she deserves it, and she's amazing. "Really? You had lunch with another potential candidate?" She laughs at the way I term it. "But what about this Christian from last night? I thought you were into him?"

"God, I don't know, honey." She rubs her forehead with her fingers, suddenly looking the age she is. "We talked this morning and we have agreed to be friends. He was sweet and so very polite. I just feel he is a little too... young for me, whereas the man I met today, he seemed to tick all the right boxes."

"Really?" I ask with interest. "What's his name?"

"Robert, but he prefers to be addressed as Bob. He's two years older than me, which makes him... definitely more suitable to my age."

"Mom, I still don't get why you were so worried about dating a younger guy though," I tell her in disbelief. "So what if the guy is younger than you? People really don't care nowadays."

Mom laughs in a self depreciating way. "I know that, Ana. But I did care. Christian was lovely, but I think he would be more suitable as a friend. He told me he feels the same, in that we would be best becoming close friends."

Terrible as it is, I can't helping letting out a deep sigh of relief at that. At least I don't have to feel bad about lusting over the man Mom was supposedly interested in dating. If they are going to keep it on a friendly level, it doesn't feel as awkward then. _Not that I have any chance of being with Christian Grey, of course._

"So you're liking this... this Bob then? This Robert, Mom?"

"I think I am." She avoids my eyes, like she is trying not too appear too overeager. "He was very handsome and charming. And funny. He owns his own business, which seems to be doing well for itself. It's a restaurant."

"Cool. And do I get to meet him anytime soon?" I ask her hopefully.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you do. I was thinking of holding a party this weekend, just a get together, just a casual fun thing. You're welcome to invite Kate over, too. Bob will be there, honey, so you can hopefully meet him. Alicia, you know, the closest friend from work..." Alicia, Mom's friend and work colleague, I have met probably fifteen times already. She's nice, and she was also the one who suggested Mom join a dating website initially in the first place. "And... also some other people from work. And Christian... I asked him to come along, too."

We haven't had a house party or anything remotely close to it in years. But when Mom tells me that she has invited Christian to come too, she can definitely count me in. Of course, she can.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews and the alerts I've received. It means a lot to me.**

 **Firstly, I own nothing to do with the 50 Shades Trilogy. It belongs rightfully to the wonderful E. L. James** **. Hopefully you'll find some enjoyment in the story anyway.**

* * *

 **I am so glad FF seem to have resolved some of their issues (hopefully). Thank you all so much and I do hope you enjoy this one. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

The rest of a week goes in a blur and, before I know it, its Friday night, the night before Saturday, which is when the house party is being thrown.

Mom already has everything pretty much prepared; She did afternoon grocery shopping straight after work, buying her favorite light beer and meat platters and snacks, like pretzels and nuts. While Mom is busy in the kitchen fiddling around, I sneakily switch on her laptop to look up on how to attract an older guy.

It seems simple enough; Things like asking him questions, but not going too overboard with the questions as not to come off as too obsessive.

Dressing in clothes that enhance your appearance. Wearing light make-up that isn't too heavy and focusing on enhancing your best physical features (whatever that means).

Don't tell the guy immediately that you want to marry him and have his babies (Duh, that seems obvious enough).

Flirt with him, but in a subtle non-aggressive way.

All of it is pretty much common-sense really. I just hope he will actually turn up tomorrow night otherwise that'll be rather... disappointing. If he doesn't end up showing, it would royally suck.

"Ana, what are you doing?" Mom asks, startling me. "I hope you're just doing your homework, honey?"

"Of course, Mom. I'm just... reading up on this topic I have to study for. I have an assignment that is due in on Monday." I feel bad lying to her, but she doesn't need to know, right?

"Did you ask Kate over for tomorrow?"

Shit, I completely forgot. Well, okay, maybe I didn't. After her behavior in front of Christian when I had run into him at the movies, I think I have learned my lesson. I don't want her to embarrass me again. I bite my lip, closing the page off hastily when suddenly Mom appears near the table. _Can't exactly let her see what I am truly looking at, after all..._

"No, Mom. Actually, I didn't. I completely forgot to."

"Well, you can give her a call if you like? You can use my phone?"

"Oh, no. I think she is actually doing something tomorrow. She had plans," I lie, basically telling Mom the first thing that comes at the top of my head. Apparently I am convincing, because Mom believes me.

"Then did you want to call her and ask to go with her, honey?" I stare at Mom blankly, trying to figure her out. Is she trying to gently say between the lines that she would prefer if I wasn't here tomorrow night? Does she think I'll embarrass her or something? "It's just this is probably going to be incredibly boring for you," she continues sympathetically. "You'll be stuck inside with all of us boring adults, having boring conversations. If you would prefer to hang around with kids your own age, then I am sure everyone would understand."

"Are you trying to say nicely that you don't want me to be here with you tomorrow, Mom?" I ask her in confusion. "I'm looking forward to it. And, besides... just because I'm seventeen, it doesn't mean I find having conversations with adults mundane, or that I'll be bored. Aren't I virtually an adult myself?" I sound way too defensive, but I can't help it.

Mom stares at me in surprise for a moment, before smiling apologetically. "Of course not, honey. I didn't mean it like that at all. I would have actually preferred you to stay, because I want you to meet Bob, as you know. I just didn't want to make you feel pressured into staying if you didn't want to?"

"Well, it's really no pressure, Mom. I do want to stay."

"Very well." She nods approvingly. "I'm pleased then."

"So everyone you said is actually coming tomorrow still, right?" I ask, holding in my breath. Maybe he will call at the last minute and not show. Hopefully he won't. Or maybe he has already informed my mother?

"Yes, as far as I know, honey. Alicia is coming over early to help set up. A few others that I get along with well at work." Mom works as a receptionist, doing nine-to-five hour desk work. "Bob is coming. He actually just sent me a text to confirm it, so fortunately for you, you will actually get to meet him."

She hasn't said Christian's name yet. Does that mean he isn't coming after all?

"And what about that Christian?" I ask, managing to sound unconcerned either way, though inside I'm panicking at the thought of never seeing him ever again. Ridiculous, I know. "You said he was coming before, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes. And Christian, too."

I let out a breath in relief. At least he's actually coming, unless something bad falls onto him at the last minute. The fact I am so anticipating seeing him again and, not to mention, having conversations with him again, is slightly... obsessive. Definitely creepy of me.

I really need to stop this. This is getting way out of hand.

I have only really seen and been near the man twice. It's freaky of me to already be so crazy about him. He probably even suspects as much already, considering how weird and awkward I no doubt am around him.

Why can't I be like Katherine? All cool and composed, and flirty with the guys she likes. She always ends up successfully hooking up with them, whereas with me, I have no idea on earth with what to do half the time. Hopefully tomorrow night will be different, though. If I dress good enough, act mature enough... then maybe Christian will like me and I'll actually end up having a chance then?

I just need to control myself really well and try to hide my nerves when I talk to him.

But, when it comes to me, controlling yourself is not as easy as it sounds when you're in the throes of a massive crush for the first time. Is this how it always is when someone likes somebody? Is it always awkward and nerve-wracking to work out all the right things to say?

If only I was within drinking age. Alcohol certainly would help with the occasion, I'm pretty sure. You hear people say that all the time; Alcohol gives them liquid courage. But will my Mom ever let me drink tomorrow? I doubt it. She would never. I suppose I'll just have to suffer in silence tomorrow then, while trying my best.

After dinner, finishing washing up and saying goodnight to Mom, I head upstairs to get changed, then rush into the bathroom to tie my hair up and cleanse and moisturize my face. Then I hear Mom. Mom talking downstairs on her phone to someone. Stepping closer to doorway to listen, I hear her talking more clearly then.

"I wouldn't have a clue with her. They just grow up so quickly, don't they? One minute they are kids, and in the next, you can't keep up with them..." Mom laughs at something whoever it is on the other line says. "Clearly she likes someone. I mean, the evidence was there. Flirting with an older guy? How to get an older man to notice you?" My heart freezes and my stomach clenches. _Shit. Did she somehow see the page I was checking up on with her laptop? "_ I'm pretty sure Ana doesn't need that... I'm sure she is completely up-to-date on the birds and the bees... Ana has always been a smart girl, she doesn't take careless risks... I trust she won't get herself into too much trouble... It is just so hard to tell with her, you know? She has always been so secretive..."

Who is she talking to?

"Yeah, I know, Alicia... I know..." Suddenly that solves it. She's talking to Alicia, her closest friend that I have known since forever. But stupid me. How could I have been so stupid as not to think of erasing the history on her laptop? Mom knows her way around a computer well. How dare her for snooping though?

With that settled, I head back into the bathroom, brushing my teeth briskly before heading into my room and closing my door completely closed. I feel sick with nerves as I climb into bed while grabbing one of my books off my bookshelf. How dare Mom for snooping around! Yet again, she has every right to, doesn't she? After all, I'm her daughter.

* * *

Tomorrow comes quicker than I thought possible, and as I go through my wardrobe, freaking out on what to wear, I settle on one of my dresses. I don't have many dresses, really; Since I prefer wearing jeans and shirts and jackets. But tonight, I feel like wearing a dress. Dresses are always your best option when hoping to impress someone, aren't they?

I hop into the shower first so that I'm clean, then once I get out, I change into a fresh bra and underwear before getting into my dress. The dress I want to wear tonight isn't too showy by any means; It's just a simple black dress that covers all cleavage and is long sleeved; Something I found on a half-price rack at a store in the mall about three months ago.

It's my hair that is the most frustrating thing of all. After finished with the blow-dryer, I attempt to straighten it to calm it down a bit. I don't know whether I inherited my Mom's genes or my father's genes, but my hair has always been unruly and wavy and difficult to tame. Half the time, when I try to straighten it, it takes up to half an hour for it to get done.

Make-up is just as tricky.

Mom doesn't like me wearing too much make-up but seeing as this isn't for school, and this is pretty much a special occasion, I decide I'm allowed to. I put on some foundation as evenly as possible, even raid my Mom's make-up bag to use some of her mascara. She has a few lipsticks, and I settle on one of her clear ones. Then I battle trying to put eyeliner on right, something I have never really used before on myself. I think my eyes are my absolute favorite thing about myself, if the only thing pretty much- they are wide and blue- and I always get complimented on them. That website said to enhance your best features, so why the shit not?

Once I'm done, I head back into my room, trying to find some decent shoes that will go with the dress. I don't wear many heels, and I don't have really any at all. So I simply settle on wearing my sneakers again. When in doubt, opt for the most easiest pair of shoes to walk in- or so I've read in a Cosmo magazine that Mom had. I don't exactly want to be falling flat on my ass in front of the man I want to impress, do I?

Once I get downstairs, I hear Alicia and my Mom talking while they fuss around making the house decent for the party.

"Hey, Ana. How's it going?" Alicia asks from behind her shoulder while putting the platters of meat and snacks on the table, and when she turns around to glance at me with a smile, I feel self-conscious when her eyes widen at me in my outfit. "Whoa, Ana. You are growing up so fast, aren't you?"

"Like hell she is," Mom says from in the living room. "It's like, where the hell did all of that time go?" Once Mom spots me standing there, I can tell she's shocked. "Wow, honey. Isn't this a surprise?"

"What is, Mom?"

"Just... the way you are dressed. I wasn't expecting this." Then her eyes land on my sneakers and she laughs. "Okay, well, maybe I have spoken a little too soon? I always expect you to wear them."

"Converses," Alicia says in approval, I think. "Goodness, talk about a flashback. Remember when we wore them back in the day, Carla? It seems they are still popular."

Alicia is about Mom's age, I think. Well, I haven't really bothered to ask how old she is, but she is always nice to me and she has one son that is in high school, same age as I am.

"You guys need any help with anything?" I ask anxiously, wanting to steer their conversation elsewhere. I really despise the limelight being on me most of the time. "Is there anything I can do, Mom?"

"No, honey. I think we are pretty much all done here." When I head into the living room aimlessly, I hear Mom say to Alicia quietly, "God, I haven't seen her dress like that before. It's scary how much older she looks when she does. Especially with all that make-up."

I feel myself flush as I inspect the old box of CD's Mom has sat near the stereo system. Even Mom thinks I look older like this? Then wonderful.

An hour later, people start turning up. Two people I don't know and have never met before knock before coming in, and both Alicia and Mom greet them loudly and eagerly. I'm guessing these two are the work colleagues Mom was talking about. They both smile at me as Mom introduces the two women to me, and then they all crowd around into the kitchen together, chatting.

"Ana, honey?" Mom calls just as I'm helping myself to a seat on the couch. "Would you mind putting on a CD for us? We need some music."

"Sure, Mom," I yell back, heading back over to the stereo system to switch it on.

"Fleetwood Mac," one of the women scream in the kitchen, so I resign myself to DJ, in finding the Fleetwood Mac CD in the box.

Halfway through one of their tracks, someone else enters into the house, and Mom rushes to greet them eagerly. It's a man this time, another one I haven't met. He kisses Mom on both cheeks before pecking her on the lips. Is this Bob?

I find out it is when Mom brings him over and he shakes my hand. He is in no way anything like Mom's previous date that we had over for dinner- Christian. Honestly, I like Christian better. _For me, not for my Mom, of course_.

Mom introduces me to this Bob, and she seems so happy, which makes me feel very pleased for her in return. Bob is dressed a little eccentric; A bit like a gangster in an old movie. He wears a white fedora over his head (probably to hide how much he is balding) and a three-piece suit. If he's trying to dress to impress my mother, then clearly, it's working. She can't seem to quit smiling at him, and evidently he only has eyes for her.

They head back into the kitchen so that my mother can introduce him to all the others that have shown up so far and then suddenly I'm lost with not knowing what to do with myself. Do I join them in the kitchen or do I offer them all a little privacy?

After a moment's of thought, I decide on sitting back down on the couch while Fleetwood Mac blasts in from around me.

Christian still hasn't shown...

But when he does eventually show, I spot him immediately at once. He's wearing dark jeans and a short-sleeved black shirt, dressed both casually and neatly. It's almost impossible to keep my eyes from following him as he comes inside, greeting my Mom and all of her friends in the kitchen with a bottle of white wine.

If he doesn't make his way over to the couch where I am sitting to talk to me at least once before the night is over, I think I'll die. I know that sounds dramatic, so end-of-the-world, but it really does feel that way. I want him to notice me, to have all his attention on me. Nobody else, but me.

When Bob comes into the room, asking me why I let them choose horrible music (Apparently he doesn't like Fleetwood Mac), he works out how to eject the CD from the stereo to put one of his CD's on. In the ringing quiet, I hear it in the kitchen.

Mom saying, obviously to match Alicia and Christian up, "Alicia is a lovely woman. She's single and she's thirty-eight. Now here's an idea: You two should go out?"

 _Bitch,_ I think to myself sullenly. I've always really liked Mom's friend Alicia, until now after hearing that. Suddenly I hate my age so badly. Why can't I be older? Why can't everyone see me as an actual adult instead of seeing me as this kid?

Who am I kidding, though? As if he would like me. What would I possibly have to offer him that Alicia wouldn't have already?

But just when I'm feeling too despondent and unhappy with myself, at last, it happens. Christian comes out of the kitchen holding a glass of wine. When he starts to approach me with a smile, I feel my heart start pounding. How do people ever possibly get through this, in acting normal around someone they like, perhaps unreasonably?

My smile is probably too big and eager, giving me away, once he finally stands above me.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" he asks over the loud music playing from the stereo.

"No, not at all." I shift over, making room for him. Those butterflies hit me, almost instantly, as he sits next to me on the couch while stretching his legs out. Already, I have no idea what to say. My mind is literally blank, yet I can't seem to stop smiling, not for the life of me. I clear my throat, thankful the music drowns it out. _Act normal. "_ So... are you enjoying the party so far, Christian?" I make myself ask loudly through the music.

He has to kind of lean near me to hear properly, which I find myself enjoying immensely. Why deny that?

He seems to consider that for a moment while rubbing around his chin with his fingers. Then he shrugs. "So far, it has been great. How have you been?"

"I've been okay." I focus on the wine in his glass. "What are you drinking?" It seems like the best conversation starter that I can come up with.

Christian shifts slightly towards me on the couch. He's sitting so close, its great. "It's a white wine, one of my favorites. Pouilly Fumé."

I know nothing about wine, of course I don't. I'm not even allowed to drink. But I laugh anyway. "Sounds very... French?"

He eyes me, amused, I think. "Yes, and you're not wrong there. It is French wine, yes."

I stare at the contents in his glass, feeling strangely wistful. Then I ask, though not really knowing why I'm bothering, "Can I try a sip?"

"A sip? Of the wine?" Christian sounds surprised, I think. Well, good.

"Yes, please," I murmur, reaching out to grab it from his hand. I think he is about to protest, but I ignore him, imitating what I saw on this show once where the chef breathes in the wine before sipping. It smells very... fruity. Then I slip my lips over the rim of the glass, tilt it back, and take a small sip in. After swallowing, I actually realize it isn't that bad. It isn't as gross as I'm expecting it to be. The wine. "While I know nothing about wine and I've never so much as tasted this one before, I think its pretty good."

I hand the glass back to him, studying his face quickly. He runs his hand through his hair as he sits back slightly, humor there in his eyes. "You're going to get me into trouble," he says, as a playful joke, I think.

"Oh? And how's that?"

"If your mother finds out I let you have some of my wine, especially being your age..."

What a buzzkill, the mention of my mother. I'm just a kid again. "Well, what my Mom doesn't know won't kill her, will it?" I try to sound flirty like I've heard Kate act in front of guys, only it doesn't really work with me. My voice is just naturally too soft and hesitant. "I won't tell her, if you won't?"

"Then we'll keep it a secret?"

"A secret just between you and me," I agree seriously. Then, to my astonishment, he lets me have a few more sips of wine again before I pass his glass back to him, our fingers touching. I'm floating on cloud nine. "So... are you okay with you and my Mom just staying friends?" I ask curiously.

I try to work out his reaction to that. He simply stares at me, in that intense way, with his eyes. Then he shrugs, his shoulder moving against mine. "I'm completely fine with it. We both decided it would be for the best. Carla's an amazing woman and I respect her decision."

Great. Now what to say... "Where is it that you work exactly?" I ask, seeing as he never really told me, did he? I'm going back to what I read last night on that page. Ask questions, though not too many. That only comes off as obsessive and prying.

"I actually am head CEO of a company called Grey Enterprises Holdings. No doubt you haven't heard of it?" Yes, he's right. I haven't.

"Is that something you enjoy?"

"It has its days," he simply says shortly.

I watch, almost flat-out staring, when Christian takes a sip of his wine himself.

I drank from his glass. My lips were on his glass where his are. It's practically a sort-of kiss. I'm not sure if I'm beaming for him to see, but I probably am. When he glances my way, I see his eyes roam down what I'm wearing before he avoids my gaze quickly, shaking his head slightly. He finds something humorous, I can tell that much. I'm just not sure what. Just my luck, I'm coming off as a complete idiot to him. Wouldn't surprise me, really, total dork that I am being...

"Is something funny?" I ask self-consciously. I yank down my dress over my knees quickly. _Am I being too obvious in my crush on him? As though I'm... trying too hard?_

"Not at all," he insists, but I can still see that something clearly is to him. "I just think that you look very... nice in your dress. You look different than how you did before when I saw you at the movies that time."

I arch my eyebrows at him. "Nice? And... different?" _If only he knew the reason I was dressed this way, that this is all pretty much for him._

"Or, well, beautiful, I suppose I should say." He says it almost like its an off-hand comment, like he is almost uncomfortable. Like he is afraid of encouraging me, almost. He peers down at the contents in his glass, almost critically. "You look very... beautiful, Ana. You hardly look your age."

"Thank you, and I'm glad." Despite the fact he won't meet my gaze, I feel myself flush with pride as my eyes roam up and down him themselves. "You look very... handsome yourself."

He laughs this time beneath the heavy rock music, propping his elbow up against the armrest on the couch.

"Do you have a girlfriend at the moment?" I ask, deciding to just bite the bullet and get it over with. "I mean, are you... looking for a girlfriend right now? Seeing as you signed up on that dating website, I'm assuming you are?"

"I am. I suppose, with my job, it is incredibly hard to meet someone. As CEO my hours are unpredictable and, when you have such a high position, I find some women to be intimidated by that."

 _Intimidated? That's just silly._

"Do you prefer older women to younger?" I ask, hardly caring what is coming out of my mouth. Christian shifts slightly on the couch to look at me again. "Is that why... you were interested in my mother?"

He stares at me for a moment before answering, blinking slowly. I think I have him all surprised, yet again. Go me. "I don't believe I am that shallow," he says very seriously. "Older or younger, it doesn't matter to me. Of course, there are some limitations. You don't want someone too old to keep up with you, or too young that it could get you into trouble law-wise. I don't really believe age should matter, to a certain extent, of course."

Him saying that definitely makes me feel better. I sit up straighter on the couch, staring at him with heightened interest. "So... in your eyes, how young is too young?"

I have definitely accomplished surprising him. Christian stares at me for another moment before glancing away, rubbing around his chin again with his fingers. I think I've gotten him speechless. "You certainly ask some difficult questions, don't you?" he says. "I'm not sure why you're asking me this, frankly."

Please don't say my age. Please don't. Then I feel petrified at hearing his answer, so I cut him off swiftly, "I'm just asking because, I for one, happen to believe that age is just a number. Obviously, when you start dating someone, you date them for... reasons other than their age. Age is just a number. It shouldn't really factor in at all, should it?" For once, I sound so confident and strong with him. Then again, I think its probably because I have been thinking about this a lot for the past few days. "When two people connect, they connect for... other reasons. They connect on an emotional and intellectual level. I don't necessarily feel that age should have anything to do with that."

God, I almost sound like I am trying to convince him.

"I don't know about you, but..." I shrug. "It's just how I personally feel. Like, why should age have anything to do with it?" Since I'm on a roll, I decide now is the perfect time as any to ask it. No one is in the room but us, and the music is loud. I have no chance of being overheard from anybody. "I was wondering if... maybe when you weren't busy, if we could hang out sometime? Just... go out for coffee or... or lunch or something?"

I can hardly stand looking at his face, and I feel flushed as anything, so I stare down at my hands instead, playing with them in my lap.

"I know its probably weird or... crazy of me to ask, but I find you really interesting," I get out in a gush. "Obviously you are doing so much more with your life than I am right now. I think it would be really cool if maybe we could hang out sometime and... maybe, um, get to know each other? Like be friends, maybe?" Regaining my confidence, I let myself peek in his directly quickly before looking down again. I have no idea what he thinks on that at all.

"Hang out?" he asks slowly after a moment. "Hang out with you?"

"Yeah, with me." I bite down on my lip to stop myself from grinning nervously. "I just... I feel personally that we get along very well, and I find you very interesting. Maybe we could... do something together sometime when you aren't busy?" I find nothing strange with asking that. Sure, there is a huge age difference there sadly, and he may feel weird hanging around with a high school girl, but I really would love to.

When I throw a look his way again quickly, I see his brows are furrowed while he drains the last of his wine down in an impressively hasty gulp. "But you're a little too young, aren't you?" The instance those words are spoken, I feel as though someone has reached through me, crushing my insides. "My sister is barely three years younger than you."

I feel absolutely crestfallen. What was I expecting though? Of course he'd feel that way. Why wouldn't he? I'm just a child to both him and the world, evidently.

"I prefer older men," I get out, trying with all my hardest to ignore the ache of rejection in my gut. "I mean, its just so hard to connect with boys my age on a deeper, intellectual level, you know? You would just have... more life experience and interesting things to talk about than they would, I'm sure."

"Yes, but... you don't want someone too old for you, do you? Older men, Ana, they want... vastly different things." I get the impression he is trying to change my mind, ward me off.

"Like... sex, maybe? They want sex?" When I throw a look his way, he still looks wildly uncomfortable.

"Well, not sex exactly." Then he pauses, backtracking with a tilt of his head. "All right, so sex, as well as... other things. They are just in different walks of life. You don't want someone older than you. You should stick to boys your own age."

I do know what I want, and I think I want you, I want to say to him, but instead, I keep quiet. Overwhelming emotions pound their way inside of me. Hurt from his rejection, defensiveness.

"Excuse me," I say, getting to my feet quickly. I manage to avoid talking to him for the most of the night.

I still somehow feel his eyes on me, all throughout the night.

When I stand around in the kitchen quietly, listening to everyone of Mom's friends talking over one another, I see him out of the corner of my eye, standing almost away from everyone. I don't hear him talk to anyone at all, only see him refill his glasses of wine or listen attentively to what the others are saying. When I do let myself look at him, I find his eyes are already on me, staring, but then he'll immediately avert them or look away.

When Mom and Bob get tired of standing around, they drift off into the living room near the music, everyone else following them, including Alicia. Since I haven't eaten yet, I stay where I am, picking at pretzels and chips. It's only when I hear someone clear their throat that I realize he is still standing in the kitchen with me.

"Another sip?" he whispers to me, almost conspiratorially. I stare up at him blankly for a second before recalling our secret from before.

Though still hurt and pissed off, he manages to get me to smile. A little.

"Okay," I agree defiantly, taking it from him. "Like before, I won't tell if you won't."

Lifting up my chin, I make sure I hold his eyes as I swallow a few mouthfuls of the wine down greedily. Once it gets too much, that burning in my throat, I stop, sucking in a breath deeply. I am definitely not used to alcohol. When I go to drink all of it down, Christian laughs loudly, managing to snatch the glass from out of my fingers easily.

"Really, I believe that is enough wine for you, Ana." He's almost stern, chiding me, his eyes reprimanding. Like I'm a senseless little girl. "Your mother is going to believe I am trying to corrupt you and turn you into an underage alcoholic, if she comes to know of this."

"Yeah, well. She won't ever know." I have to press a few fingers up to my mouth when a burp threatens to escape me. "I'm good at keeping secrets."

"Well, I would hope so," he mutters under his breath wryly.

There is a moment where we just stare at each other, neither of us saying anything. Then he turns his back on me, fixing himself another glass of wine.

"So... do you find me beautiful in this dress?" I ask, curious, but also somewhat maliciously. I'm still upset over him saying that I'm too young.

"Yes, like I said... I think you look very beautiful tonight, Ana." His back is still facing me. It's like he doesn't want to look at me, like he is trying to let me down easy.

"But you think I'm a little too young?" I use his words from before.

I hear him sigh loudly as he goes still. He's obviously finished with refilling his glass, yet he refuses to look at me. "I don't just think, Ana. I know. Look, I'm flattered by you asking me if we could go out to lunch sometime, really, but I just don't feel that its appropriate. You should be asking that to a boy more your own age. I believe that would be more suitable." His voice is low, strained.

"I think its all so... bullshit," I spit out between my teeth, hardly caring.

I have no idea where this ballsiness is coming from. Maybe those sips of wine? Liquid courage, as they say? Talking to his back just makes me want to touch him, so stepping closer, that is exactly what I do. I reach out, running my hand down the back of his shirt. His entire back muscles go rigid and tense through the material of his black shirt, for some reason. A bit like I'm disgusting him by touching him this way, or like he doesn't particularly like being touched so I stop, pulling my hand back.

"Age doesn't have to mean anything," I get out, almost desperately. "All I'm asking you is if maybe we could hang out sometime? That we could be friends maybe?"

Christian just turns on his heel to face me, and his expression confuses me. I think he looks almost conflicted. Before I can even so much as work out why he is looking at me the way he is, he moves swiftly out of the kitchen, joining my mother and her friends in the living room.


	6. Chapter 6

**I own nothing to do with 50 Shades as usual. Just a fan.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Hope you enjoy this one :)**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

Ignoring all the loud music and noises and my mother calling for me to come sit by her, I dart upstairs quickly, hurling myself down stomach first on my bed. Once safely inside my room, I cover my face in my hands, letting my long hair cascade around me. I feel like I'm about to cry. I can feel it, in the welling of tears in my eyes and that heavy, hopeless feeling in my heart. God, why am I so stupid? Why did I just have to go and make a royal fool of myself downstairs in front of him just then?

Could I be anymore desperate?

Of course he wouldn't be interested in getting to know me on a more fundamental level. I'm barely a few years older than his little sister. What's so special about me? What grown man wants to spend time with a pathetic, seventeen-year-old school girl like me?

I growl into my splayed hands, thankful that at least the loud music downstairs will drown everything out. What the hell is wrong with me? This is such a stupid mistake. Maybe Mom was right? I should have called Kate after all and spend time with her. Not act like some pathetic girl desperate for a guy's attention.

"Stop," I tell myself sternly, slapping myself gently on the forehead with my palm. "Just stop and get over it already. He's not interested, and I think I already knew that in the first place that he wouldn't be. So just let it go..."

I need to do something. I need to be proactive. If I do something to take my mind off everything, I'll be fine. I'll be okay then. Crawling to the end of my bed, I grab my bag, dumping my textbook on the bed. I have an assignment that is actually due this week coming. I should focus on that. I'll make my mother happy if I keep getting good grades. _Just focus on getting my homework assignment done, and then that distraction will help. It won't hurt so much then._

I take a deep, steadying breath as I open my book, finding the current assignment I need to get done. Only after less than two minutes of trying to concentrate, its obvious I'm not going to be getting any work done. Not with all that loud thumping music from the stereo downstairs or knowing that I am missing out on talking to all of Mom's friends and getting to know this Bob, who she seems to like so much.

There is just too many distractions that its hard to focus.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I suck in another deep breath, trying to calm myself down as well as ward myself off crying.

There's a knock on my open door. My eyes pop open and as I look up, Christian is standing there, leaning against the door with a shoulder against it. I hadn't heard or noticed anybody come up, least of all him.

He comes into my room without my permission, glancing around. One hand is tucked in his pocket, the other dangling at his side, his fingers twitching. I have no idea why he is in here, but there is no denying that I am pleased he is. I wipe my eyes hurriedly, sitting up straighter on my bed. He's actually in my room. My messy room!

I have no idea what to think or what to make of it, when suddenly he comes closer, crouching down near my side of the bed, folding his hands out in front of him. Instinctively I huddle closer to the edge of the bed, staring down at him. Christian slowly licks his lips as he looks around my room again before turning his gaze onto me. He looks almost remorseful, troubled; like he is truly sorry for what he just said downstairs.

"Why are you up here?" he asks after a moment gently, searching around my face with his eyes. "Why aren't you downstairs?"

I shrug, glancing down at the sheet of my bed nervously. "Because, um, maybe I was waiting," I mumble nervously. "Maybe I was waiting and hoping."

My lips feel dry all of a sudden, so I part and lick them to moisten them quickly before peering at his face again. He seems to watch the movement of my tongue attentively, and whether he realizes he is doing it or not, it causes him to lick his lips again as he nods once. _God, did a guy ever look so good?_

"Waiting and hoping?" Christian arches an eyebrow in question. "Waiting and hoping for what, Ana?"

A smile widens on my mouth. I'm grinning. Maybe even deliriously so, as those butterflies that seem to infect me in his presence come to me again; A not all that unpleasant, fluttering feeling in my stomach.

"Waiting and hoping that you would actually come up here like this," I confess, my voice too quiet and terribly breathless. "That you would come up to my room."

"And why would you want me to do that?"

"So that I could do this." Reaching down, I brush my fingers through his hair, enjoying the shiny, soft texture of it. To my relief, he doesn't move away or reject me in any way. He moves closer, his eyes on nothing else but my mouth as he rests an arm on my bed, leaning closer.

My eyes focus on his lips, and I catch myself wanting him to kiss me, my first time kissing somebody, so... so badly that it almost hurts, the desperation and the aching need to feel his lips against mine. Is it always like this? Having a crush on someone and then feeling as though you would literally die if they didn't show you attention? If they didn't reciprocate how you feel?

"I've changed my mind," Christian says to me after a moment, his voice deeper.

"Changed your mind? About what?"

"I don't care about how old you are," he gets out under his breath and then he slides one of his hands through the side of my hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. And then he is moving closer, and he is actually kissing me!

At first, his lips are soft against mine, hesitant. Showing me he has every intention to respect my decision had I wanted him to stop for some reason, to move back. His stubble feels weird on my skin, but its a definite pleasant weird. The kiss then builds as he moves his head to the side, his lips parting and dancing on my lips, and I never knew something can feel so great, so... so right and perfect. When I grow confident enough to move my lips against his, Christian catches my bottom lip between his, and he actually sucks it and tugs a little, making the swarming butterflies in me get even more intense in my stomach.

"I don't give a shit about age," he murmurs against my mouth, his other hand coming up, his fingers stroking my hair away from my face gently. "Age is just a number."

"Ana, honey?" The knock on my door causes me to jolt on my bed as my eyes fly open to find my mother standing there, arms crossed, her face soft with concern. "Are you feeling okay? I was wondering where you had went?"

 _Shit._

"Oh, hey Mom," I say nervously, trying to seem normal. Quickly, I pick up my pen, shuffling my assignment around. "I'm fine. I just thought seeing as I was kind of intruding, that I may as well leave you all to some peace and quiet. I have an assignment I need to get done so..."

I am probably as red as a lobster in the face right now. When I look at Mom, I feel paranoid, worried that suddenly she can read my mind, that she knows I was daydreaming rather inappropriately just then. Thank heavens that she can't, that it isn't possible for her to know what I was fantasizing of just then... It still feels weird and like she can, though.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She walks closer to my bed, helping herself to sitting down on the edge of it, crossing her legs.

"Of course I am, Mom. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You just seem very... quiet, honey? Like you are upset about something? Is there something that you would care to talk about?"

 _Oh, boy. If only I actually could..._ Mom and I have always been particularly close; I know a lot of students at my school, Kate especially, that always fight with their parents, that they always ramble on about how their mother's annoy them. That just so isn't the case with me and my mother.

She's like a close friend, in a sense. Someone that I can normally easily talk to, practically about anything- about my hopes, my dreams, my fears. But this... this seems like something I shouldn't talk to her about. Maybe if I mince it around a little, then sure? I don't exactly want her to know how pathetic I am being.

"I just... I hate my age sometimes," I decide to admit to her sullenly. "Being a teenager officially sucks."

Mom blinks at me for a moment in confusion. "Hate your age? Why, honey?"

"Because I just find that..." I sigh in frustration. "...No one really takes me seriously. I'm just always going to be this... this kid to everybody. It's just like, no matter how mature you act or seem, you still are considered a kid in everyone's eyes."

"But you are a kid, honey? You're seventeen. I think its safe to say that you are still a kid, honey, no matter how much you... frighten me at times with how quickly you are seeming to grow."

Those aren't exactly the words I want to hear, that I'm still a kid. "I just wish I was older," I whisper to her sadly. "I wish I wasn't seventeen, and that I was in my early twenties or something. I really do sometimes."

"I think that's normal, though. I think everybody, regardless of their age, goes through that stage of hating how old they are."

Mom smiles at me, reaching over to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"But honey, that's just a natural part of growing up. Besides, when you eventually are older, you will look back at this conversation that we are having now and you won't believe how silly you were to feel the way you are now, that you failed to embrace being a teenager, because, I think, being a teenager is the most exciting part of life, its where you don't truly have grown-up responsibilities. I mean, look at me!" She laughs, her eyes crinkling. "There are many days where I dread approaching the age of fifty. It literally terrifies me. I don't think there is anyone out there that wouldn't have those types of feelings. Hell, sometimes I even wish I was your age again..." She laughs at herself indulgently. "Sadly, I've since learned that that isn't the way the world works. You only go up, never backwards when it comes to your age."

I eye her doubtfully, unable to help smiling as Mom pats me gently on the cheek _. Okay, so maybe talking to her on this is actually helping to improve my mood somewhat..._

"Is there a reason in particular with why you feel this way?" she asks me softly, and my stomach clenches. "Is it due to this... older boy that you like, honey?" The excitement in her voice is almost palpable; Mom knows more than anyone that I have never liked a guy before. "Because I saw the page that you were looking up on the internet with my laptop. I'm assuming that has absolutely nothing at all to do with your assignment?"

Damn Mom. Damn her for being so clued-in half the time. What can I possibly say without giving too much away?

"Okay," I say anxiously after a moment. "You caught me, Mom."

"Who's this older guy?" she asks me with interest. "Is he from your high school?"

"Um, no. He's not from my high school, Mom." _No, he definitely isn't a boy from high school. He wouldn't even really be classified as a boy, seeing as he is thirty_. "He just... he thinks I'm too young for him. He made that perfectly clear."

"Right. So how much older are we talking here? A couple of years? Is he in college?"

"Um, no. He's about... ten years older than me, Mom." Okay, so yeah... I am really mincing my words here.

"Ten years?" Mom's brows crinkle in surprise. "Well, honey, that is quite the age difference. You could hardly blame the guy for feeling that way..."

"Gee, thanks, Mom," I get out in irritation. "That's exactly the words of advice that I need to hear."

"I'm sorry, honey." She laughs in apology. "It's just... if he feels that you are too young for him, they maybe he is on to something?" She sighs loudly when I squirm in annoyance. "I know it isn't what you want to hear but... it is probably all for the best. I mean, speaking from experience when I was your age, I know that first time crushes can be super intense. It seems like it would be the end of the world if he didn't like you back or show interest. Believe me, I've been there, honey."

"Mom, why are you telling me this?" I ask, failing to hide my exasperation.

"Because, darling, soon there will be another boy coming into your life and, no doubt, he will be perfect for you. He'll be more your age, he won't feel that you are too young, and then... you'll see then that it isn't the end of the world that just one boy never expressed his interests in return. Besides, maybe you'll meet someone at school in your grade? I'm sure there are plenty of boys there, right?" She winks at me.

"That's the problem though, Mom. I'm just not... interested in boys my age."

"Well, you might surprise yourself, honey. It may very well happen one of these days. Feel better now that we've talked?" Her face is still etched with motherly concern.

"Yeah, a lot."

"Then good." She kisses me on the forehead quickly before standing off my bed. "I better get back downstairs, honey. Know that you are welcome to come back down and join us whenever you feel you want to."

After how stupid I just was with Christian? No way. "Thanks, Mom." I force a smile on my face. "Love you."

"Yes, love you too, honey."

While it felt good, talking to Mom, I push her advice to the back of my head. I like him... and I don't think anything can change that right now. But maybe Mom is definitely onto something?

He feels I'm too young for him. Difficult as it might be, I should try my hardest to forget about him, seeing as he obviously doesn't like me in _that way_ in return.

* * *

Monday comes quickly, and then I find myself walking down the corridor at school.

My first lesson is ancient history, which is the one where my assignment is due, which I fortunately have completed already. Since its time for first period, the halls are hectic with students rushing past, crowding up the corridor. It's too loud, too crazy busy, and every time I try to squeeze past someone, my elbow ends up hitting them.

"Hey, Ana."

I turn towards that voice, and I discover its José, a guy who has history class with me. He's always incredibly nice to me, and for some reason beyond me, he is always the first to say hello to me and smile whenever I am near him. Kate says its because he secretly must have the hots for me, but personally myself, I can't imagine that being why.

Maybe he has always been this friendly to girls? Really, I haven't the slightest idea on earth why he bothers to talk to me the way he does, but he always seems to have a big and bright smile for me whenever we cross each other in the building. Sometimes he'll sit next to me during class, striking up conversation about what we did on our weekends. I can hardly see it being because he likes me in any special way, though.

"Oh, hey José," I say back to him shyly as we fight our way through the crowd together.

"Have you finished you assignment that is meant to be passed in today?" he asks me loudly over the noise.

"Yeah, I managed to on the weekend. You?"

"Only just." He gives me another one of his smiles, showing me his straight white teeth. "I went to a party on the weekend. It was a shame that you couldn't have come?"

"I don't really like going to parties much," I admit honestly. "I'm really more of a person that likes the quiet." He laughs, and I wonder self-consciously if I have said something ridiculous. "Was it a good party, though?"

"It wasn't so bad." He shrugs, glancing down at his shoes quickly. "Someone paid someone over legal age to supply alcohol, so we got some drinks happening. So many people ended up getting trashed; You wouldn't have liked it."

I laugh nervously. "Yeah, probably not."

Just when I'm starting to think that maybe it isn't all that hard- the idea of liking a guy my age after all- it is all thoroughly squashed and ruined when one of his friends appear at his side.

"Knew I would find you near her, José," his friend says with a laugh. "Always wanting to get with Ana, aren't you?" Then to me, he adds, "Do me a favor and bone him already. He thinks your hot, Ana."

I see José's face fall in embarrassment before he shakes his head, falling behind from walking with me to punch his friend real roughly on the arm. All the way from where I am, I hear the pair of them laughing and mocking each other. _And this is why I don't find myself attracted to guys my own age..._


	7. Chapter 7

**I own nothing to do with 50 Shades, as obvious hehe.**

 **Thank you for your reviews, I enjoyed reading them and your opinions. Hope you enjoy this one.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

Once I get into class, I find somewhere in the middle to sit, watching José as he comes through the door. I know where he is going to sit the instant he comes in; He moves straight towards where the desk is opposite mine, pulling open his seat while he dumps his bag on the floor. José usually almost always sits next to me, so it doesn't really surprise me. He smiles at me as he pulls open his textbook.

"You don't mind that I always sit by you, do you, Ana?" he asks me uncertainly.

"No, not at all."

Overhearing what his friend said out in the hallway makes me feel embarrassed, though. Maybe Kate had been right, in that he actually does have a bit of a thing for me? I always assumed he was just being extra nice and friendly with me. José certainly has never stepped outside of being anything other than friendly.

"Sorry about what happened by the way," he adds, as almost an afterthought. "That was very... embarrassing. My friends are such assholes sometimes."

I force out an awkward laugh. "No, its fine. I didn't think anything of it anyway."

"Still, it was embarrassing," he laughs again with a grimace. "Anyway, what are you doing after school this afternoon?"

His question throws me off a bit. Why would he want to know?

"Um, nothing really," I admit hesitantly. "I have no plans. Why's that?"

José suddenly looks embarrassed. He stares down at his textbook while he fiddles with his pen, clicking the end a couple of times. "Well, I was actually wondering if maybe you'd want to maybe hang out after school?"

I feel the blood drain from me in shock. I never thought that anyone, least of all José, would want to hang out with me after school. "Really?" I ask doubtfully. "You want to hang out with me after school?"

"Yeah, I actually do." He gives me a faint smile that seems almost shy. "Would that be okay for you? But, you know... if you have plans already or you don't want to, then... that's cool too?"

After a moment's thought, I agree to hang out with him after school. Usually Kate and I just hang out. What could it hurt any if José and I hung out in a place that is totally not a class situation? At least _someone_ wants to hang out with me, regardless of my age.

"Sure," I agree, smiling hopefully in a way that doesn't seem too overeager. "Hanging out with you this afternoon would be great, José."

I suppose José is very great looking for a boy my age. He's a few good inches taller than me, with tanned skin and dark eyes. Usually he wears a grey beanie on his head, but he isn't today. His dark hair is closely shaved to his scalp, and his smile is really infectious. I just don't feel all that interested in dating someone my age, though. Maybe there is something truly, fundamentally wrong with me? Some... deficiency that makes me feel only attracted to older guys? I don't know.

When lunch time comes, Kate and I sit on one of our usual benches, soaking in some of the light rays on sun. Kate brings out her IPod, letting me share a headphone with her so we have one in each ear to listen to some music together. After about five minutes of listening to one the newest and most recent techno tracks, Kate yanks our earbuds off.

"How did history go?" she asks me with interest.

"It was okay. I had to pass in my assignment. I'm not sure if I'll do any good with it, though."

Kate snorts while peeling open a low-fat yogurt that she bought for lunch today. "Yeah, right, Ana. You always get really good grades on your assignments. I wouldn't worry. I think I should be more worried about passing mine in, seeing as I can't be as brilliant or studious as you are. Did anything else exciting happen?"

"Maybe," I say shortly with a smile.

She sits up straighter on the bench, giving me a questioning look while licking the yogurt off the lid with her tongue. "What?"

"José actually asked me to hang out with him after school. We're hanging out."

"José? As in José Rodriguez?"

"Yep, that's the one."

She laughs out loud in shock. "Wow, I guess he has bigger balls than I initially thought then."

"What are you talking about, Kate?"

"It's just that I know he has been pining over you for, like, ever since high school started. It's about fucking time that he asked you to hang out, honestly." She gives me a smug smile. "See? I told you that he had the hots for you, didn't I?"

She definitely had. "I just assumed he was being friendly all those times?" I admit to her in embarrassment. "I mean, we'd talk about our weekends and he'll always sit next to me in class. I just assumed he was being a nice guy?"

"Come on, Ana. Most guys aren't friendly unless there is a reason, a hidden motive in mind. Do you reckon he'll try to kiss you?"

I feel my stomach turn in uneasiness at the thought. It almost turns me off the banana I've bought to eat for lunch today. "I wouldn't have a clue, Kate. I'm kind of hoping he won't though...Really, I'm just interested in being friends with him."

"Yeah, because you like your men old." Kate rolls her eyes at me. It's no secret to Kate that I have my crushes on older men, especially ones in movies. "You should think about it, though, huh? You and José. He seems nice and, stating the obvious yet again, he does seem really into you."

"Yeah, I don't know," I mumble with a laugh.

"You'll have to call me instance you get home, all right?" Damn Kate. "I want to know all the gossip, like whether he uses his tongue on you or not. Okay?" She makes it into a joke, but I know she's flat-out serious.

 _But use his tongue on me? Jesus._

"Yeah... no, Kate. It's so not happening."

"God, Ana. You're such a fucking prude!" She laughs at me. "Of course, it's gonna happen. Usually when you make out with a guy, they try to slip their tongue in at least once, okay?"

"Let's not talk about this." I feel ill with nerves. What Kate is telling me, it makes me feel uncomfortable. I definitely do not want to make out with José. "If I can help it, it is so not happening, Kate."

Once school is finished for the day, I find José waiting for me right outside the building. I start feeling stupidly shy when he makes his way over to me while slipping his grey beanie over his head.

"You ready, Ana?"

"Um, yeah. Totally ready."

"I heard they opened this new cafe near here. One of my friends told me that they make great iced coffees. Want to go there?"

"Uh, sure," I agree with a careless shrug. It's not like I have any better ideas anyway. "Sounds great."

I still can't shake how weird and awkward it is when we start to make the walk together towards the cafe José told me about. He walks too close, in a way that sends his shoulder constantly bashing into mine. He also talks a mile a minute, but a part of me just believes that is due to him being equally as nervous as I am.

Once we get into the cafe, it is reasonably busy but we still manage to find a good enough seat by the windows. We both shove our bags underneath the table and just as I am unzipping my bag to find my wallet, José says quickly, "No, don't bother, Ana. This is my shout."

I really don't feel comfortable with him paying for me though. "No, its fine," I protest sincerely. "I can pay for my own drink, José."

"No, no," he insists. "I asked you here, so its only fair I pay for your drink. What do you want?" Seeing as José seems so persistent I let him, though I can't shake off the feeling that he is viewing this as almost a date. José settles on an iced mocha, while I try look for something different to drink, anything that sounds good. "Why don't you get an iced coffee too?" he suggests.

"I suppose I could, but I don't really drink coffee," I admit quietly. "I tasted it one time and it just didn't taste all that good to me. I'm more of a tea girl." It must be funny, me saying that, because José laughs softly.

"I don't think they have iced tea here?"

"Yeah, obviously they don't. I'll just have tea then."

"Tea? Okay, Ana. So its a tea for you, and an iced mocha for me?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Cool, be right back." While José goes to order and pay, I look around the cafe at the people more closely. Some have obviously just knocked off work, wanting to come somewhere quiet and comfortable so that they can get their daily hit of caffeine. Then I see who is sitting at a table directly across from ours at the other side of the room, facing me, and I feel almost like I want to dive straight under the table and hide until José returns.

Just as usual, with my bad luck, its none other than Christian himself.

Really, why do we keep ending up going to the same places together? Why is it that I always seem to run into him on the days where I really want anything but to run into him? At least he hasn't seen me yet. Well, at least, I don't think he has. He seems preoccupied with a whole bunch of paper in front of him while he takes occasional sips from the cup of coffee in front of him. Maybe he's doing stuff for work?

He glances up while taking another sip of his coffee, but he definitely hasn't noticed me in the cafe yet. Even something as mundane as watching him drinking looks so good to me. God, why does he have to look so wonderful while doing literally anything? More importantly, if he realizes I am in here as well, will he immediately assume I am some teenage stalker following him around? I hope not.

"All done," José's voice breaks me out of my- no doubt, lusty-eyed- staring and I force myself to look at him while he slides into the seat across from me, just about obstructing my view of Christian. "I can't believe you don't like coffee? I always thought it was impossible for somebody not to like coffee?"

"Yeah, it's just... I don't like it." I put an elbow on the table, resting my chin against my hand as I crane my neck a little to look Christian's way again. He looks almost sadly... bored out of his brain by all the papers he has to go through.

"Who's that?" I hear José ask in confusion. When I flit my eyes over to him again, I realize he is looking in Christian's direction as well. "Is that guy someone that you know?"

"No, I don't think so," I lie quickly, feeling my cheeks burning. "It's just fun watching people without them knowing, you know?" José laughs again at my words. "Is that weird to say that?"

"No, not at all, Ana. Sometimes I feel the same way. It's always interesting observing people. I suppose that is why I enjoy photography and taking pictures so much."

Focusing, I bring my attention back to José instead. It's only fair I try my hardest to seem interested, after all. "Really? You like photography?" While José and I strike up conversation a lot during class together, it isn't really about anything too personal. "I had no idea that you were interested in that?"

"Yeah, I am. I suppose that is why I'm very interested in doing photography or graphic design in college."

A woman comes along, carrying our orders along with her. She sets José iced coffee on the table next to him while placing a saucer and my cup of tea down on the table. José instantly goes for a plastic straw, while I pour some sugar into my tea.

"Do you have any idea of what you want to do in college?" José asks me after we both take a experimental sip of our drinks.

"No, I really don't. I guess I better figure that out sooner rather than later, huh?" I take another sip of my tea, relieved that it seems to ease the dryness in my throat. "Do you think you'll try do graphic design or photography?"

"Well, I hope so. But my dad isn't so keen on that." I spot Christian standing to his full height while raking his fingers through his hair, his phone pressed to his ear as he talks to someone in a low, hurried voice. "My dad doesn't think graphic design is a very good career path. He wants me to do engineering or something like that. I'll be the first in my family that is going through to college."

I nod quickly, bringing my eyes back to José hurriedly. "Wow. First in your family? I bet your parents are so proud of you?"

"Kind of, yeah. My dad is just one of those people that like to constantly push me. I would really love to do graphic design though. He wouldn't be too happy if I did, though. He said he'd actually disown me if I did." José laughs while taking another suck through his straw of his iced mocha.

"Do you have any photos that you have taken on you?" I ask curiously.

"Sure, I do. You want to see them?"

"Sure. I'd love to." I can tell José is extremely passionate about photography. It's a shame that I really have no idea where I want to go in my life myself. He brings out his camera from his school bag, switching it on. Then he shows me some of the photos he has taken, explaining to me how he changed the lighting on some of them. "These are amazing," I gush, and he grins at me widely over my assessment. "You really should consider doing graphic design or photography then?"

"Yeah, but its like I said. My father would kill me if I did."

"But you must be so talented to be able to take photos like that?" I tell him truthfully. "It would be a shame if your dad wouldn't let you. You'd really miss out, because it seems like its something you are really good at."

"Thanks, Ana. I'm glad you at least seem to think so."

"I think you definitely should," I say earnestly as he reaches down to put his camera carefully back into his backpack. "Even if your father would get angry, you should really do it, because what I saw, they were great."

He smiles at me again, pleased by my approval. "Thanks. It means a lot for you to say so. Sometimes I feel like I'm just wasting my time."

I smile at him tentatively. "Well, you're definitely not."

I see him then when José leans back in his chair slightly. I feel red as a tomato- and I probably definitely look it, to boot- when it dawns onto me that Christian is staring right in my direction. He's finished with his phone call and he looks... shitty? Irritated? I gather it must be stressful, what he does for a living, having a real job. Oh, great. Fantastic. He's finally realized I'm in the cafe as well. After what happened so embarrassingly on Saturday at the house, I'm eager as ever to avoid him.

I still feel those weird butterflies in my stomach as I purposefully avoid him, picking up my cup to take in a quick sip of my tea. Just because he made it clear on me that he is in no way interested in hanging out with me because I'm seventeen, it doesn't mean that my crush and admiration of him has suddenly evaporated into dust. These things take time, I figure.

Still, I get the sense that he is watching me. I can almost feel his eyes on me. No doubt he thinks I'm a total dork. That, or a stalker following him around by turning up at random in the same place as him. Or is it maybe the other way around? Is he stalking me? Or is it just purely a... mere coincidence?

"Are you nervous about our finals that are coming up?" José asks me. I find I'm thankful for the conversation.

"I am, actually. I'm petrified that I'm not going to pass in any of the subjects."

"That's bullshit," he laughs. "From what I have seen of you, I bet you'll pass just fine. You always seem really quiet and focused on your school work." Quiet and focused on my school work? I sound like such a bore. "You hardly ever even talk in class, unless I make the first move." He laughs again.

"Yeah, I know. That's very true. I still worry that I won't pass our finals though."

After a while of talking, José has to excuse himself to go to the bathroom. I almost wish I could beg him not to, because when I throw a quick look in Christian's direction, I see him standing to his feet yet again while quickly shuffling all his papers into a neat stack. I hope he isn't coming over here to try talk to me. Even if its just to simply be polite and say hey, I don't want him to. Why can't I just have magical powers and the ability to turn invisible? It seems it would really help right now.

I try to appear busy with reading what it says on the plastic of José's iced mocha container. Apparently it isn't convincing enough, though, because... before I know it, he has already made his way over to the table.

"Hello Ana," he says, and when I glance up at him, I try to seem surprised despite how probably obvious it is that I'm pretending. He seems as though he is trying to hold back a smile when I make a fake noise of shock.

"Oh, Christian. Hi," I get out, too breathlessly. "I didn't realize you were in here as well? How weird that we keep turning up at the same places. It's like when we went to the movies, how you were there, too?"

"Yes, strange. I hope you aren't stalking me?" I think he is just trying to be charming and make a joke. When I laugh at it, even to me, it sounds pathetically fake and forced.

"Funny, I was just wondering the same thing about you. Are you sure you aren't the one stalking me?"

Christian's face seems to go deadly serious. "You caught me. I didn't realize I was being so obvious," he says, without humor. Then an almost-smile comes across his face. "I'm just kidding. I can assure you wholeheartedly that I am not stalking you, Ana. I actually just came in here for a quick late lunch."

"Well, I'd certainly hope not," I say, too quietly. "Not that I mind you potentially stalking me either way..."

Things seem to get even awkwarder when José returns from the bathroom. Or maybe that's just me? He looks between me and Christian in confusion.

"José, this is Christian," I explain hurriedly. "He's a new friend of my mother's."

Christian doesn't say anything, he just simply sends a stoic nod his way.

"Oh, nice to meet you," José says, slipping back into the empty seat next to me. "Ana and I are in history class together."

"That's interesting," Christian murmurs, but by the tone of his voice, it sounds as though it is anything but interesting to him.

He peers down at his large stack of papers under his arm, shoving his other hand into his trouser pocket before stepping backwards from us slowly.

"Well, I'll leave you both to it. Ana." He sends a nod my way, his expression almost unfriendly and distant. Then without another word, he strolls out the cafe briskly without so much as a glance backwards at us.

About fifteen minutes later, José and I are finished with our drinks and I find myself dreading the next part as we both stand, tucking our chairs back in under the table. Kate's words return to me; Will José expect a kiss goodbye? Considering the large smile on his face, I'd say he probably believes he is in for a chance. I really hope he won't make the move, though. I don't know if that shows that there is something vital missing from me, or whether I'm abnormal, but... kissing José is just the last thing I am interested in doing.

"This was fun," José says after he chucks his rubbish in the bin. "We should definitely do this again sometime, huh?"

José is right, though; It was surprisingly fun. And interesting, in getting to know him. While I have no interest in hooking up with him, I could definitely see us becoming close friends.

"We should. You'll have to show me more of your photos sometime."

He chuckles shakily. "Definitely, Ana."

Once we step outside, I have to wrap my arms over myself as we stand out on the street. José walks silently next to me, both hands shoved in his pockets, the weight of his school bag making his shoulders hunch. It's freezing and the sky is downcast and gray. It's probably going to start raining soon. I really pray to God that he won't make the move to kiss me.

He seems to hesitate for a moment, as if undecided on whether to kiss me goodbye or not. But then he hangs his head. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, Ana."

"Yeah. You too, José."

"Bye." With another shaky chuckle sent my way, José starts walking down the street, his head still hanging low. I sigh inwardly in relief. At least he never ended up trying to hook up. It spared me having to hurt his feelings in telling him that, while he was great, so funny and interesting, I wasn't interested in anything other than becoming friends.

I feel lighter and happier as I start walking to make my journey towards home. I try to pick up my pace in walking as quickly as possible so I reach home before it rains. I wish I had decided to wear something thicker today, because the frigid wind just seems to blow straight through my cotton jumper. That's when I take notice of the car rolling near me by the sidewalk, scarily close. When I turn to look curiously, I feel my heart stop in my chest for one single second at the face I see as they lean through the scrolled-down, tinted window.

"Ana, would you like another lift?" Christian asks me, and without waiting for my answer, he pulls the door open for me while moving to the opposite side in the back.

Since its cold and maybe since I'm privately relishing the idea of getting to spend some more time alone with him, I hop in. Once safely buckled in and the window is rolled up, his driver pulls away from the curb to start driving down the street. I still feel all shivery in his car, but at least it acts as coverage with a roof over my head.

"I thought you said that you weren't interested in hanging out with me? That I'm too young for you?" I comment, while Christian reads through some of those papers that he had in the cafe with him again.

"I did. But how does giving you a lift constitute as us hanging out?" he asks absently without looking up from his papers.

"I don't know." I kind of run out on things to say, so I simply sit quietly in the leather of the backseat, watching him. "What are you reading?" I ask curiously. "Does that have something to do with where you work?"

Finally, Christian glances up, in exasperation, I think. "It does, yes. It has everything to do with work. I have a lot of things that I need to get done before tomorrow morning. I have a meeting."

"But its already four o'clock in the afternoon?" I say, checking the time on my phone quickly.

"Yes. With my job and the significance of my role in the company, I do tend to work until extremely late hours. Sometimes I take all of this shit home with me and do it all then."

"Wow. It sounds very... frustrating and... time consuming," I observe.

Christian looks at me again with a lopsided smile. "Yes, and you are not wrong there, Ana."

"And lonely," I add sympathetically.

Something flickers across his face. "Yes, a lot of that also. But this is what happens in the real world. Sometimes it is all work and no play. Multitasking in the car, especially. No doubt, once you are out of school, you will understand what I mean completely."

"Probably," I agree quietly.

"New boyfriend?" he throws at me unexpectedly, while returning his gaze back down to the paperwork in front of him.

"What?" I blab out.

"The boy that you were with? This José? Is he a new boyfriend?"

I study his face carefully while he lifts up a hand, rubbing around his forehead with his fingers. It's so hard to know how he is feeling on the idea of that. A part of me hopes he isn't happy, yet another side of me feels like he probably wouldn't care either way. Why would he ask, though? Don't guys usually ask when they are interested or, at least, feeling in some way threatened?

"No, he's definitely not a new boyfriend." I laugh anxiously. "We just have class together, that's all. I like him, but... as a friend."

"And are you sure he is aware of that?" He peers up at me again quizzically. Gosh, sometimes he can look at me so intensely, like he has powers to see straight through me. It makes those butterflies flutter full swing. I don't think I have met anyone else who has such a powerful, arresting stare. "It seemed that he very much liked you?"

I laugh again, unnerved by the subject. "My friend has always believed that he likes me in some way. I really don't think that's it, though. I really do only just feel as if he is trying to be friends with me."

Clearly I've gone and said something unknowingly funny to him again, because Christian laughs, with that amused expression on his face. Maybe I'm being a dork in front of him again? Wouldn't have a clue. "Well, it definitely seemed to me that he liked you. From an outsiders perspective, of course." That amusement vanishes from his face as he fixes an almost deadly serious look on me. "You might want to be careful around boys."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because even boys your age, they expect different things. They... want different things."

How funny. First, on Saturday, he was telling me how I don't want an older guy because they expect things. Now, here he is, telling me to be careful of guys my age, too? "Sex?" I guess, thinking back to our previous conversation that night. "They expect sex?"

"You could say that, yes." He clears his throat, returning his eyes back to his papers again as he shuffles through them to find another one. I get the impression that he feels uncomfortable again. "Especially at your age, when... puberty begins and ends. Most boys your age have sex on the brain. I know I certainly did, when I was around your age." He clears his throat again gruffly.

"And are you like that now?" I ask him, without thinking.

Christian meets my gaze again. "Like what now, Ana?"

"Do you... you know..." I shrug, having to avoid his gaze. I glance outside the window quickly, feeling heat gush up to my face, "Do you have... sex on the brain, too?"

"When I was your age, sure."

"So, in other words, I ought to avoid males altogether?" I ask, finding enough courage to glance in his direction again. "Is that what you are saying? I shouldn't want someone older because they have different expectations, different life experiences. Yet, I should be careful of boys my age because they have one-track minds and expect sex, too?"

He turns to look at me, giving me a wry smile, showing me his straight teeth. When he smiles- its like an instant bone-melter. I feel like I'm melting, like I'm goo.

"I wouldn't say I meant it just like that, Ana," he says. "You seem to be misinterpreting my words. Just be careful, either way."

"And who says I'm not being careful?" I retort back. "Should I be a nun? Should I avoid males altogether? Is that what you are telling me?"

"Of course not. I'm just speaking from experience, of course. Of... when I was a male around your age, not that you should consider becoming a nun and avoiding males. How ridiculous." Christian smiles at me again, and I can just tell he is trying to refrain from laughing at me.

Annoyance flares within me. He has no right to tell me that I should be careful, that I shouldn't do this or do that. It's him thinking he's an adult, that he has right to tell me what to do. It's him being condescending.

"You think you're so much better than me because you are older, don't you?" I burst out. "You think you're smarter than me? That it gives you an excuse to lecture and be patronizing?"

There, that wipes the smile off his face. He stares at me for a moment before shrugging. "That's not true," he murmurs after a moment of thought. "I suppose I'm used to doing this with my sister, though I most certainly don't see you as a sister. I don't mean to offend."

 _His sister? Great, he views me as a sister._

"It's like with anyone your age when you grow up in a household with younger siblings," Christian continues, putting the nail in my coffin yet again. "You feel... protective around certain people. You wouldn't like for them to get hurt in anyway."

"Or is it not so much protectiveness, but something else?" I'm surprised by my audacity. He's just really gotten me angry.

"What else could it be?"

"Jealousy, maybe?" I watch his expression very carefully to that. It's a wasted effort though. I don't know what he is thinking or feeling one bit, not even when he levels his stare onto me again.

Just when I'm rearing and ready to hear what he has to say on that, the car makes an abrupt stop and Christian glances outside the window. Already, we're outside my house. Damn. Just when things were getting interesting.

"Well, thank you for the lift," I manage grudgingly. "I still don't understand why we can't hang out and be friends, but fine. I guess you don't want to be seen anywhere near a dork like me, do you?" I sound bitter as I grab my bag off the floor.

Just as I'm shifting in the seat to unbuckle my seat-belt, he touches me.

It isn't sexual or anything like that, nothing flirtatious. He simply brushes his hand against my knee before moving it away, to stop my movements, I think. "You think that's the reason why I don't want us to be friends? Because I believe you're a dork?"

When I glance up at his face quickly, I see he looks disbelieving, his eyebrows half-raised.

"Isn't that it?" I get out in a hushed voice. "You think I'm a dork and that you're better than me, that I wouldn't be worth having as a friend because I'm younger than you. Isn't that just it?"

"I don't think you are a dork, Ana. Quite far from it."

I stare at him skeptically. "Sure, you don't."

"I like you already a bit _too much_ that it... worries me," he says after a moment uncertainly. "It's why I mainly feel it would be inappropriate, spending so much time with you. It's not that I don't want to be your friend."

He likes me a bit too much? What is that even supposed to mean?

"My reasons for not wanting to be your friend or to hang out with you has no reflection on you, not on what I think you are or your personality." His eyes flicker back and forth between mine earnestly. "But you're seventeen and you are still in school."

"So that's just it? Because of my age?"

He closes his eyes for a moment in irritation, sighing loudly. When he reopens his eyes, he stares at me, like he desperately wants for me to understand. "I think you're an amazing girl, and that you have a lot going for you. Once you finish school, I believe that you will have a lot of opportunities in life." He licks his lips for a moment, hesitating, "But if someone my age spends time with a girl like you, I just... I don't feel it is appropriate. I think it would be perhaps for the best if we stayed away from each other for awhile. Maybe when you are a bit older, perhaps we could spend time together then?"

I reel against the door, hurt. I know what that means. It's like letting someone down easy; I'll be your friend in a couple of years, yet when that time comes, it won't happen. Just like with my father Ray on the phone; _You can't come with us camping, but maybe next school year you can_. Yet when that time comes, it's another lousy excuse on how he is too busy for me.

"Or, fuck it," Christian mutters after a moment quickly, lifting his hands in surrender, "We'll be friends, Ana. Right now, we'll be friends. I like you, so yes, I'll be your friend."

 **Hope you found some enjoyment in this one?**

 **Thank you, I'm so appreciative of the comments I do receive, even if its expressing your dislike over the content. I've decided to write the story how I initially planned it out, so if it concerns you or it isn't your cup of tea, then its up to you whether you want to continue reading or not. Ana and Christian will start seeing each other and they will embark on a relationship in private. If that disconcerts you too much, you're welcome to no longer read. Just a warning of where I intend to go, while trying to make the story as realistic as possible. 17 year old Ana and Christian will eventually start something together. It was the way I had planned the story to go in the first place, while there is still some reasons of doubt from Christian there. :) So just a warning beforehand.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you! Hope you enjoy this one!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

 _He'll be my friend_. While it isn't the ultimate result I'm hoping for, its better than nothing. Even if he is simply humoring me.

"Give me your phone," Christian tells me after a moment.

"Huh?" I ask blankly. "Why do you want my phone?"

"So I can give you my number." I try not to look too excited over that when I pass my phone over to him. He creates a new contact, writing in his name and number. Then he presses the dial button, and I hear his phone going off in his jacket pocket a few times on vibrate before he ends the call. "There, now I'll have your number as well." He hands my phone back to me, and I find it difficult not to grin.

"Okay, um," I breathe anxiously. We have only exchanged numbers and I'm reacting like he has just asked me out on a first date. How ridiculous of me. "Great then. I guess I'll... go now."

Opening the door and climbing out of the car, I close it back up and once my back is turned to him and I hear the car pull away back onto the road, its then that I allow myself to finally grin, maybe even foolishly.

 _Holy shit. We have each other's numbers now. That's an extremely good sign, right?_

I lift my head up towards the overcast sky, welcoming the cool refreshing air that beats down over my flushed skin.

I find my heart is pounding dangerously in my chest as I manage to find my way up the stairs towards the front door. My hands won't seem to quit trembling as I manage to unlock the front door with my key to get in, and I feel strangely light-headed and weak-limbed.

I am so in disbelief that I feel as though I can hardly think straight. Now that we have each other's numbers, will he try to text me first? Or should I try to be bold, in making the first move to text him? Maybe me texting him first would make me seem obsessive or strange? I don't know. Maybe its best I wait it out for him to text me first?

I am really going to need Katherine's advice on this...

 _But really, holy shit! I have his own, private number now and he has mine!_

I know its stupid, really; Feeling this way about a guy, but I just do, and I can't understand why. It may be an irrational crush, and he may never feel anything back for me in any way whatsoever, but a girl can dream, right?

Once I get inside, I realize Mom isn't home yet. Usually she gets home from work around a bit before or after I do, but she isn't anywhere in the house. It's only when I head into the kitchen that I see the note she has stuck up on the fridge with a magnet. Apparently she is staying over at Bob's house tonight and that she'll call me later to check in and make sure I'm all right. She also told me that there is noodles in the pantry, ones that you can easily just heat up for two minutes flat.

I guess plain, boring old noodles will be on my menu for dinner tonight.

At ten to six after heating my noodles up and sitting on the couch, my phone starts to ring. A part of me feels unreasonably excited and queasy when I go to answer it. I almost wish it was Christian, but to my disappointment, its only Kate calling to ask how things went with José.

"Hey, Kate. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much. I just thought I'd call and ask how things went today? Is there anything exciting that I should know about?"

I roll my eyes while stirring my noodles around with my fork. It's typical of Kate; Always expecting the big to happen, always making a fuss out of nothing. "Um, no. There's nothing to report, Kate."

She makes a loud noise of disappointment on the other line. "What? But what went down with you and José after school? Please tell me something exciting!"

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but nothing went down between us," I inform her. "Besides, why are you so surprised by that? I told you I didn't want anything to happen in the first place, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I know he is totally into you! So what exactly happened between you two? What did you do together?"

"We just went down to that new cafe that has opened and we had a drink. Nothing all that ground-breaking, Kate."

"What? And so José didn't even try to put the moves on you? Not even at least once, Ana?"

"Yeah, no. I am very pleased to inform you that he didn't try to put the moves on me. Not even once."

"God, I guess I was overestimating the size of his balls then..."

I laugh. "On more exciting news, guess whose number I have in my phone?"

"Who?" Kate's clueless. "Who's number do you have in your phone?"

"Christian's," I admit in a quiet gush of air, the name alone leaving me to feel all mushy.

"Christian?" Kate repeats loudly. "You mean the guy that Carla was gonna date?"

"Yep. They've agreed to being just friends. Mom's not home right now. She's with Bob- her latest squeeze. I think she's going to stay the night."

"Have you texted him yet? Christian, I mean?"

"No, definitely not," I confess nervously. "I mean, I don't know whether to wait first for him to text me or whether I should do the honors. Is it... creepy if I text him first?"

"No, not if he gave you his number himself, it isn't. I think it would be more so creepy for a guy if you went all stalkerish and found his details without his permission and started calling him, like, every hour of the day. You think you'll call him? Or text, even?"

I hesitate. "I don't know, Kate. I don't want to come across as too... overeager and pushy."

"You should totally invite him over," Kate says teasingly. "You should invite him over seeing that Carla is away for the night. Then you two should have hot, wild sex and bone on the couch!"

I snort at the thought. "Definitely not, Kate. As if I would do that!"

Kate sounds as if she is taking in a deep breath. "So, I say go for it. Text or call, whatever."

I'm still not so sure, though. "I don't know. I don't want to mess this up somehow."

"Well, why else would he bother giving you his number if he didn't expect you to at least text or call?" Kate asks, and I feel my heart pick up. That couldn't be why he did it, surely? Maybe he was just fooling around? Maybe he doesn't actually want me to call or text him? "I say you should definitely go for it. See how he responds, and if he's all like, 'leave me the fuck alone and stop texting me', then just stop."

"No, I don't think I will, Kate," I decide after a moment. "I think I'll wait and see if he does first. If not, then I'll just forget about it."

Once I get ready for school the next morning, it becomes miserably obvious that he isn't planning on either texting me or calling me. But then what's the point of taking down someone's number if you aren't going to bother with it? It's so frustrating.

Realizing I'm getting too affected by it, I force it to the back of my mind, focusing on packing a banana and sandwich for lunch today. I really should just forget about it, no matter how difficult it seems to be. He's not interested in me, and that's why he isn't going to call or text me anytime soon. Hadn't I already had that suspicion in the first place, though?

School is, I find, the much needed distraction I need. When I'm focusing on my work or jotting down what the teacher is saying in their lecture, I have no room to think anything about him then. When did I get like this? So instantly crazy and desperate for a guy to show me a bit of attention?

I get some form of attention in history class, but not from the person I wish to have it from the most. José and I talk a lot more in class when we can. I guess yesterday when we went out after school had officially broken the ice between us. I just hope José doesn't get the impression that I am interested in anything other than us being friends.

"You want to hang out again with me after school?" José asks me once our lesson has ended and we are all packing up to leave.

"Sorry, I can't this afternoon, José," I lie, using the fastest excuse I can come up with. I can't help feel a tinge of guilt when José's face falls. "My mother and I are actually doing something together tonight, so I can't stick around for too long. I'm so sorry, but we'll have to another afternoon?"

 _At least that seems to lessen the blow._ José perks up again, smiling at me widely. "Great. Another afternoon then, Ana."

"You'll have to bring along some more of your photographs that I haven't seen yet?"

"Definitely. I'll try to remember to bring them tomorrow."

"Awesome. Can't wait."

My phone tings in my pocket telling me I've just been sent a message. Probably Kate telling me where to meet her at lunch. I yank it out of my jean pocket while José follows closely beside me, trying to talk some more. I'm that preoccupied with chatting to him that when I read the text, it goes straight past my head and I find I have to read it again.

 _Are you doing anything after school? Christian._

My stomach flops and I suddenly feel as though I'm having a panic attack. Shit, finally he texts me! And asking me whether I'm doing anything after school? That definitely has to be a good sign, right?

I was starting to lose all hope, assuming he wouldn't ever text or call me and that he was just having me on.

Apparently not.

I try to calm myself down, before texting back:

 _Nothing really. Why do you ask? Ana._

I press send before glancing back over to José quickly. He's watching me carefully, expecting me to answer some unheard question that I hadn't been listening to.

"Sorry, José. Um, what were you saying?" I feel like I look weird to him. No doubt, I am probably acting weird too. I feel as though my face is completely red.

"Never mind, Ana." José laughs in an awkward way. "Well, see you later."

"Okay. Bye, José."

As if right on cue, my phone tings again. Another message.

 _I have an hour free before a meeting. Want to hang out?_

I have to reread the text to make sure I'm not imagining it. He wants to hang out? God, I would probably just end up doing something majorly embarrassing in front of him. Then again, could I really pass up the opportunity?

My phone goes off again.

 _Ice-cream?_

I laugh quietly. I suppose that is the problem with conversing through text. You can never really tell whether someone is being serious or whether they are making a joke or not. Is he truly asking me that?

 _Ice-cream? What do you think I am? Five?_

Christian doesn't bother replying to my text after that. The quicker it gets to the day ending, the more disappointed I feel when I sneak a glance at my phone to check and see if he has replied, only to discover that he hasn't. Did I end up putting my foot into my mouth already by saying the wrong thing?

Just my luck, I have.

Once the bell goes off and school is officially over for the day, I rush out through the corridor, feeling my heart thumping in my chest. I'm almost hoping he has actually changed his mind and that he won't bother showing up. It's hard to act normal around him most of the time without feeling like a complete idiot.

Once I get to the front entrance of the building, I'm almost horrified when I glance through the glass to discover he is, in fact, waiting there for me. He's dressed in his tailored business suit again, definitely looking like a man who had just gotten out of work for a couple of hours. Both of his hands are tucked deeply in his trouser pockets, and he appears almost anxious as he glances at all the students pushing out through the doors.

As I'm reaching the doors to squeeze out, something must cause him to look in my direction, because he does, meeting my eyes suddenly. That anxiety I could see there on his face dissipates and he looks almost relieved and happy to see me instead.

"Um, hi," I get out in a voice that sounds far too squeaky once I finally reach where he is standing. I just cannot believe it that he was actually serious about hanging out with me after school today! Hopefully the ice-cream part wasn't included in that, because I'm not some little girl, but still. "I thought you were just joking when you said about hanging out with me?"

"I wasn't joking. Are you ready?" He turns, showing me the way towards where the car is parked.

Once we reach it, he holds the door open for me, surprising me. Once I'm in, he shuts the door, walking to the opposite side of the car to get in the backseat with me.

 _Okay. So he really wasn't playing around after all..._

I start to feel out of my depths when he directs his driver on where to take us. I literally have nothing important to talk about with him, nothing interesting to say. He does so much more with his life, he is far more experienced than I will ever be. He's no doubt accomplished way more than I have in all my seventeen years.

All I do, is get through school, work diligently to complete all of my assignments and study on time. Work hard to get good grades, and then see my best friend Kate and hang out with her whenever we have the time. I have no license to drive a car as yet. I don't get out much. I can't even drink yet or get into clubs at all, really. What the hell am I supposed to say to keep him interested? What do I have that I could possibly offer to him that he wouldn't already have?

"Where are you planning to take me?" I ask nervously. He hasn't really said.

"I told you in my text, I believe." When I glance over at him, there's no humor in his expression at all. "I believe I offered to take you out for ice-cream, didn't I?"

 _Take me out for ice-cream? Oh, gee. Great._ Damn, I had been hoping he was only just joking about that. He has definitely accomplished making me feel like nothing more than a child to him. "Take me out for ice-cream? Isn't that what kids do?"

"What? You don't like ice-cream, Ana?"

"No, I do," I assure him truthfully. "I think everyone pretty much enjoys ice-cream. I just had hoped you were on joking on that."

"Well, I wasn't." He throws a look outside the window quickly. "It seems a great day to have ice-cream, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, sure." I glance outside the window as well. So far, the sun is still out. It isn't all that hot outside, though. "It's perfect weather for ice-cream. For now."

The car comes to a sudden stop at the side of the road near a cafe where I know they do both drinks, meals, and ice-cream. "Here we are. Let's get that ice-cream then."

I begin to wonder if this entire thing is such a huge mistake. He easily makes me feel little. I can't tell if he is purposefully being patronizing by doing this or not, but I keep quiet as I get out of the car with him. He holds the door to the cafe open for me, and when I step in, I see its fairly quiet and empty. The only sound in the place is a freezer buzzing.

"What do you want, Ana?" he asks me while pulling out his wallet.

"I don't mind. Anything. You choose."

I find somewhere at a table to sit while he steps up towards the counter to order. I still can't believe that this is truly happening, that we are actually doing this together. Somehow, it almost feels like a wistful dream, like I'm just imagining this. But clasping my hands together in my lap under the table and using my thumb and forefinger to secretly pinch myself on the wrist tells me that this is far from a dream.

This is happening, and its definitely real. We're going to be eating ice-cream together.

Since his back is facing me as he stands up at the counter, talking to the person behind it, I figure its safe to watch him without him knowing. He is definitely, one-hundred-percent, the most handsome man I think I have ever seen on the planet.

I can't shake the feeling that this is so strange, us actually hanging out like this. I had been wishing it would happen ever since meeting him, I think. And now, here it actually is, anything but a wishful thought. It's hard to get my head around that.

When he glances back to look at me, I look down quickly, not wanting to get caught out on my staring. Those butterflies are there, yet again, in my stomach. I feel like I'm overly sweating, like I have a fever.

"I chose the peppermint flavor," Christian's voice suddenly comes from above me. He's returned, holding two medium Dixie cups of ice-cream. "I hope you won't mind."

"Um, no. Peppermint is great actually."

"Good." He places mine down in front of me while removing a plastic spoon out of the dispenser on the table. Then he puts it in my cup before taking the seat across from me, taking out a plastic spoon for himself.

I'm faced with a sudden dilemma as I stare down at the ice-cream in my Dixie cup. It looks good enough, the green scoops. I think there is bits of chocolate drops in it too. The problem though, is that my appetite is thoroughly gone. _How am I possibly going to manage eating in front of him without feeling self-conscious?_

Talk, I tell myself. If I talk and keep him distracted in answering me, then maybe he won't pay so much attention to how I eat.

"So what do you like to do when you aren't working?" I finally bring myself to ask, while forcing myself to bring my hands up, stirring my ice-cream around a bit with the spoon. "Like to just... chill out and relax?"

"Chill out?" He smiles at me, making me feel as though I've maybe put the question out there in a dumb, adolescent way. "Well, to 'chill out' as you put it- I like to sail, to fly. I like travelling when I have the time available to me."

 _Sail? Fly? Travel?_ "They sound like extremely expensive hobbies?"

"I suppose that is because I'm a very wealthy man, Ana. You could say that I even have excess money to burn." I guess that isn't so hard to believe; No doubt he is very high up-there in the company he works for.

When I peer up at him again, I feel my cheeks redden when he eats a spoonful of ice-cream. He somehow seems to make it seem to easy, so... natural. I can hardly muster the courage to lift the spoon up to my mouth without my hand shaking.

"But really, that is enough about me for now. What about you? What do you do to 'chill out', as you put it, when you aren't at school?"

I don't really get why he has to ask me that, but I figure he is only being polite. "Reading is probably my most favorite thing to do. When I'm not studying or working to complete my assignments, I read."

"So you like reading?"

"I do. I'll even go so far as to say that I enjoy reading far more than I enjoy social situations almost. I know that probably makes me sound antisocial or... strange, but its true." The way he stares at me, so intensely like he is interested in what I have to say, it makes me feel incredibly nervous. And shy. A lot of shyness, too. "Reading is far more interesting to me than heading out to some party where there is a lot of people and loud music around. I suppose I prefer the... quiet more. I don't like crowds, really."

Christian cocks his head to the side. "So you would say you are more of an introvert?"

"I guess so. If that's what its called, then pretty much, yeah. I'm an introvert."

"I'm the same, really. I prefer to spend... time on my own, rather than attending busy parties. I find it can be very... overwhelming at times." I feel all the tension in my body release now that he has expressed his similar opinion. "I think we must be the same in that aspect then?"

I shrug. "Yeah, guess so."

"And how is Carla?"

 _Is this just the only reason why he is doing this? To get... inside details on my mother?_ "She's fine," I say quietly. "She's good. I think she really likes Bob- that new guy that you met on Saturday when you were both there at the house?"

"Yes, I did meet him. He was very interesting. So Carla likes him a lot?"

"Yeah, I'm assuming she does." I don't exactly want to go too far and tell him that Mom stayed over at Bob's house last night. That wouldn't be right, would it? "Was it weird for you having to be there in the house only to see her with another guy? Especially after you two only had went out a couple of nights beforehand?"

He glances away from me for a moment, raking his fingers through his hair. He seems to be considering his answer very carefully. "I didn't find it weird at all, to be completely honest. Your mother and I both established early on when we met that being friends and keeping things... platonic would be preferable."

I look at him carefully, assessing his reaction. Is he disappointed that things never worked out between him and my mother, despite what he says? I can't say he looks too concerned, either way.

Using his looking away to my advantage, I quickly scoop a bit of ice-cream into my mouth, the creamy coolness of it soothing my dry throat wonderfully. When I see him look at me again, I feel the blood rise up to my cheeks. "And do you like him? Bob?"

"I didn't speak to him much, but if he's going to make her happy, then... why shouldn't I like him?"

"I think that should be the main thing, shouldn't it?" He says quietly in understanding. "Accepting whatever makes your parents happy."

"And what about yours? Are they happy?"

"Well, I'm assuming they are. They always seem extremely happy whenever I see them." He sends a closed-lipped smile my way. "They've been married for a long time. I don't really believe I've seen two people seem more happier. Then again, who would know what happens between closed doors? Maybe they aren't as happy as they seem?" He eats another scoop of ice-cream, his eyes boring into mine while he does. At least he isn't so self-conscious about eating in front of me as I am with him. It's unfair. "You don't like it?" he asks me after a moment softly.

"Like what?"

"Your ice-cream?" He jerks his chin down towards my Dixie cup. "I don't see you eating it very much?"

"Oh, no." I laugh nervously. "I do like it. I guess I'm just... nervous." I laugh again.

"Nervous?" He shakes his head at me slightly, like he doesn't understand. "Why would you be nervous?"

"Just... eating in front of you," I admit breathlessly. "I find it very... nerve-wracking for some reason. I don't entirely know why."

Christian makes me feel even more stupid when he chuckles throatily. "Well, we all have to eat to live, don't we? I wouldn't worry so much."

 _That's really easier said than done, though..._

But with his advice in mind, I make myself shovel another spoonful of ice-cream into my mouth. When I glance his way again, I see he is still watching me, with humor shining there in his grey eyes. God, he must find me so funny. He must think me such a fool.

"What are you reading?" he asks me unexpectedly.

"Reading?"

"Yeah, like... what book are you reading right now?"

"Oh, um, I'm reading one that I haven't read before. It's by the author Thomas Hardy. It's called-"

"-Tess of the d'Ubervilles?" he cuts over me in understanding. "Yes, I'm familiar with that one myself. Are you enjoying it so far?"

I feel a strange soaring sensation in my chest. He's read that book as well? Maybe we do have some things in common after all, though... I know that isn't much.

"So far, I am. Sure."

"And do you have any plans at all once you graduate from high school? Has anything come to mind yet?" I don't understand why he keeps asking me that. It isn't like any plans have suddenly come to me overnight.

"No, still no plans as yet. Really, I'm not thinking further than cramming in study so I do my best in my finals." I cram in another spoonful of ice-cream, hyper-aware that he is still watching me. I really don't understand why he bothered to ask me here for ice-cream with him? I guess I won't figure the true answer out unless I be direct and ask. I have to clear my throat nervously, before saying, "Why did you ask me here with you? Or was it just simply because you wanted ice-cream?"

When I allow myself to look at him, its like his eyes haven't left me once. He raises his eyebrows at me. "I thought you said that you were interested in hanging out with me and for us to be friends? Didn't you tell me that?"

"I did," I reply honestly. "I'm just not sure why you asked me _here_ exactly?" I look around the cafe for emphasis. "Is there a... particular reason why?"

"There is, actually." He leaves his spoon in his Dixie cup, leaning back in the chair. He looks somewhat nervous and uncomfortable by my question, though I can think of no reason why he'd feel that way. "I just... I feel I like you."

A tingling, mushy sensation spreads across my entire body as I think those words through. _He likes me? In what way though? Just as someone he feels would make a interesting friend to hang with, or... in a more special way?_

"Ever since we first met when I picked you up from your school, you felt like a very... easy person to talk to, Ana. Someone that I feel somewhat... compatible with." He rubs around his chin with his fingers, hesitating. It's as though he's trying to be careful how to phrase it all for me. "And I meant what I said, in that I don't... care much about age- to a certain degree. You may be seventeen, but still I... I find I enjoy being around you like this."

I can almost hear my heart pumping loudly in my ears at his words. Joy pierces through my chest, probably unreasonably.

"And that's precisely how I feel about you," I get out shyly. I can hardly endure looking at him when I say it, so I keep my eyes low on the green ice-cream scoops in my Dixie cup as I mash it around more with my spoon. "Ever since meeting you when you picked me up, I've just found you to be so... interesting. I find I really enjoy talking to you." I suck in a deep, shaky breath before letting it all out again. "And being here with you like this... I guess I enjoy spending time with you as well."

Nervous laughter bursts through my mouth. I really cannot believe we are even having a conversation like this together!

When I peek up at him again nervously before darting my eyes downward again, I see Christian is watching me in a concentrated, intense way. There's a small smile on his face. "And that's what I feel is the issue here, personally myself," he goes on, his voice going a bit deeper, hoarser. "I certainly was not expecting to feel this way towards someone this much... younger than me. In fact, I thought it would be impossible, because... I just didn't think I could ever; It just didn't seem right to me or appropriate. Certainly not when I have a sister that is barely a few years younger than you are."

My heart does a leap in my chest. _Is he telling me that he actually likes me? Possibly in the way that I like him?_

"But with that said, I also know how strongly your mother cares about you. When I first met Carla, when we went out to lunch after we messaged on the dating website, I could tell she was extremely... protective of you and that she loved you." When I look at Christian again, I discover he isn't looking at me anymore. He's staring outside the window, almost distantly. "And its all with good reason, really," he adds under his breath. "So with the way I feel about you, it seems very... in poor taste to Carla. I want to remain friends with your mother, but... its also a... conflict of interest." His voice is gentle, almost like he is trying not to hurt me by saying the wrong thing. "I know that Carla would not be in anyway happy if I... pursued something with you."

My stomach drops. _Ah, so this is what its about. Hurting my mother._ All that Christian is telling me is definitely true, though; Mom cares about me a lot, and she most definitely wouldn't be pleased had she learned I was now having a 'thing' for the guy that she had met originally on a dating website; the one she had intentions to date before she decided he was too young and, instead, preferred to go with Bob. Yeah, Mom wouldn't be happy due to that at all.

"But it won't matter if my mother doesn't find out, would it?" I ask him confidently. "That way, you can still keep your friendship with my mother but... we'll just be keeping this a secret between us? What harm could be done if my mother never finds out that we are seeing each other like this?"

I can tell he has his doubts. He gazes at me for a long moment while running his forefinger back and forth along his bottom lip, the uncertainty almost palpable from him. Then he shrugs. "And you wouldn't feel bad about us hanging out like this? About keeping this from your mother at least for... a little while?"

"Nope," I say without hesitation. "Not even a single bit. I really feel as though I like you, Christian. No doubt that's been obvious straight from the moment I met you, but... remember what I said to you? I'm particularly good at keeping secrets."

But even as I say it, I know its a full-blown lie. Of course, I'll feel bad. I already feel bad about crushing on him and then keeping that a secret from my mother. But I really want this, _with him_. Even if it means going behind my mother's back and being dishonest about it to her, it seems well worth the risk to me.

 **Hope you enjoyed this one? What are your thoughts? Liking or hating where it is going?**

 **Sorry if its boring and slow. I'll get more into it quickly; It probably is too much slowness and world building.**

 **I love reading your thoughts and your opinions, so feel free to keep them coming. :) Thank you.**


	9. Chapter 9

**So sorry for taking so long to update again. I've been busy working, so real life has been a distraction getting in the way.**

 **Thank you so much for your kind reviews, and the alerts I have received on the story. I enjoy reading your feelings :) I do hope you enjoy this one and that it isn't boring.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Nine**_

When he drops me off home, I notice he gets his driver to park a block away from my Mom's. I suppose, considering how we agreed to keep this like a secret thing between us, its very smart thinking. Knowing my mother, she would check outside the window and see me leaving his car otherwise.

I don't quite get why he insists on us keeping this a secret, but in some ways, I do. My mother would go nuts if she probably found out we were hanging out together and he seems to want to keep a platonic friendship with her. It makes me feel slightly guilty, doing this to my mother when we have always been so close, but... in a way, its also exciting.

When I unbuckle the seat belt, I turn to face him. He meets my gaze while rubbing his hands back and forth down his trouser pants. I realize I want him to kiss me like nothing else on the planet. I want so badly for him to kiss me, and I've never felt that way before; I've never felt that I have wanted a guy to kiss me before, so badly that it aches.

A part of me even suspects its why he parked so far away from the house. Why else would he do that, if he wasn't at least in some way tempted to kiss me?

My eyes fall down to his lips, waiting for him to make the move, only he doesn't. He just sits there in his seat, staring at me. I want this, I want it right now. God, I sound like a greedy kid; I want this toy, I need it. But I do. I want to be kissed. I want to feel his mouth on me.

He sighs loudly and when I lift my gaze, he turns his head away from me, raking his fingers through his hair. "Well, thank you for today, Ana." _What? That's it?_

"No, thank you. The ice-cream, it was... nice."

I remember reading somewhere that guys like aggressive girls; Ones that aren't afraid to say or do what they want. Is that how he is, too? Should I make the first move rather than to wait and see if he will?

"Do you have plans for tomorrow after school?" he asks me, turning to look at me again.

"Not any that I know of. Why's that?"

"Because, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to do something with you again?" His eyes search my face for something. I feel my heart swell in relief at his question; Even if he doesn't feel up to kissing me right now, at least he is interested in spending time with me again.

"Okay, great. I have no plans, so I'm free." I try not to sound too overly excited or happy. "I'd like that, getting the chance to spend more time with you."

 _Kiss me, please. Just lean over in your seat, and kiss me goodbye! What are you waiting for?_

Christian simply stares at me with a brisk nod, and its then that I realize. Maybe I have to be aggressive and make the first move after all? Like I'd read somewhere, otherwise... _otherwise_ I'm just going to be disappointed all night. Not to mention frustrated _with myself_ for not at least making the attempt. Besides, what have I really got to lose? He basically said he liked me back in the cafe, didn't he?

"You know, you have my permission," I get out, way too softly. I try to make it seem like a flirtatious joke, though. "If that's what you are waiting for, then you've got it."

"Your permission?" He blinks at me a couple of times in misunderstanding. "Your permission for what, Ana?"

"To kiss me goodbye, of course." My flirtatious voice doesn't really work with me; I sound too coy, too... breathless. It's embarrassing. "I mean, that's why we are here in the first place, aren't we?"

Christian peers back outside the window for a moment as he digests my words down, and I think my boldness has actually managed to shock him. Good, then. When he finally glances back at me, I see he is trying to hide a smile. "And what makes you think that I was waiting for your permission?"

"Oh, well." I stare at him in confusion. "Isn't that just what you were doing? Waiting for me to give you the green light?"

I hear his belt click open as his eyes peer into mine deeply. As he leans closer towards me, my stomach clenches in anticipation, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering around rapidly in excitement. God, he is so gorgeous. Then, I feel his lips on me lingeringly and he does kiss me.

On my cheek. The inches of stubble on his chin feels scratchy, like its buffering my skin. My heart sinks as the sting of rejection cuts through me. _I ask for a kiss, yet he kisses me on the cheek? How fucking confusing._ I can't tell whether he actually likes me in the way that I like him, or if he is just simply meaning to be friendly by it all. Maybe I'm being too desperate and it shows, subsequently turning him off?

"You can get out of the car now, Ana."

Christian moves away back into his seat, buckling up again. He rests one elbow against the door, two fingers stroking around his chin. He won't dare look at me. It's as though he refuses to.

Really, I think his behavior all this afternoon just shows that he views me as a child, asking me out for ice-cream with him. What if I wasn't seventeen then? What if I was closer to his age? Would he want to kiss me then? Do more with me if I was older than seventeen?

But he said in the cafe that he likes me in a way that he never thought he possibly could about someone my age- so _what_ was that? And, despite all my insecurities about myself, he has a particular distinctive way of looking at me as though I'm someone interesting to him, someone... somewhat pretty and attractive to him. So why doesn't he want to kiss me in the real way that two people kiss, and not in a pathetically chaste way, like on the cheek like that?

Apparently, no matter what age... men are downright confusing and send mixed messages- whether they be in school or out in the real world, like he is.

Tearing myself out of my obsessive and confused thoughts, I force myself to move, opening the car door. I notice Christian still doesn't glance my way as I do, and it makes me feel irritated. _What? So he's too ashamed of himself to even bother looking at me now or something?_

"Goodbye Christian," I say, not even bothering to hide the offense in my voice. "Thanks for the lift, but I'm afraid us hanging out tomorrow won't be happening seeing as you're so ashamed to associate with me." I slip the strap of my bag over one shoulder before slamming the car door shut with all the effort I can manage.

I've just started walking briskly when I hear a car door open and slam shut.

"Ana, wait."

"Wait?" I keep walking. "Why should I when I'm clearly _just a kid_ to you?"

He slips in front of me, blocking my path. I stop, faltering in my stride. Christian looks desperate and frustrated, and so many different things at once. "Look, if we _are_ going to do this, then... we're going to have to be extremely careful about it, okay?"

I shake my head, still not understanding. "I said that I was okay with keeping us hanging out from my mother?"

"I know that, but I..." He pauses for a moment, taking in a deep breath. He combs a hand through his hair and he looks agitated in a way I haven't seen before. "I meant what I said, in that I like you a lot, too. A little _too much_. I have a sister younger than you, and I know that if any older guys thought about her the way that I've been thinking about you the past few days ever since I met you... I'd _kill_ them."

My face goes hot at his words and I know I'm probably blushing. _He's been thinking about me?_

"Yeah, well. I'm _not_ your younger sister, Christian," I spit out. "So I don't exactly understand why you are being like this with me?" My head is reeling. "And about what happened back there, in the car...if you don't want to kiss me then why not just say so?"

He seems taken aback. "What?" he hisses flatly. "It's not that I didn't want to kiss you. I _do_ want to, and that's half the problem."

"Well, _I_ for one, really can't see what the problem is here? I _like_ you, and I... I'm _thinking_ you like me, too?" I try to control my voice, to keep it low in case someone miraculously overhears us. "Yes, I'm younger than you. Yes, I still go to school, but... soon I'll be eighteen and starting college. I'm _not the_ kid you seem to think I am! If it's my mother finding out that you're mostly worried about, then don't be, because I _know how_ to keep secrets and I _know_ how important it would be that she never finds out about this!"

Christian steps closer at my words, close enough that he is almost touching me. He stares at me for a moment, seemingly torn and conflicted, then he reaches up, with both hands. Those butterflies grow even worse inside of me as he slides one hand through the back of my hair, the other cupping the side of my face. He moves even closer- the full length of his tall body not quite touching me but he stands between my legs- and then before I know it, he is kissing me full on the mouth. It's even better than I was hoping. Kissing someone for the first time, it isn't as nerve-wracking or difficult as I had always been expecting it would be. My body seems to get naturally into it, my mouth seeming to know what to do.

Instantly, I reach up with my hands, touching his hair and the back of his neck. When his tongue probes against my bottom lip, I moan, opening my mouth to him, and the dizzying rush of lust I feel drowns me.

I love it; Everything about it. The way his fingers tighten around the strands of my hair, keeping my head still. How tall he is compared to me, that he has to duck slightly. The warmth of his lips, the stubble on his chin. For the first time ever since meeting him, his actions in doing this, in him kissing me- he makes me actually feel like a full-grown woman in his eyes, and not some kid that reminds him of his younger sister.

I feel like if something bad were about to happen to me right now, I would go willingly, because he is kissing me, _finally_ , and it _feels so fucking good_ and _unlike anything_ that dying would be fine by me, so long as I get to experience this, just once, the fact that he is kissing me, showing me he likes me and wants me as much as I feel I want him. But then, please no-

All too soon, he moves away, uncurling his hand from the strands at the back of my hair. Both his hands rest on my waist for a moment, before he gives me a light push, moving me backwards and away from him. He rotates away with his body so that he isn't facing me for a moment, though I don't get why. I can only hear my breathing, which is far too loud. Too loud and shaky. I feel like I'm floating, like I'm high!

When I see his face again as he turns towards me, I see he is staring down at the ground near his feet. He lets out a _whoosh_ through his mouth and lifts a hand to rake his fingers through his hair again. "You better get inside your house before Carla starts wondering where you are," he says, finally looking at me. "I'll walk you halfway."

He walks me towards the street where Mom's house is, neither of us saying anything. Really, I feel as though I can hardly remember how to speak. There's this weird, heavy tingling sensation between my legs, like I'm turned on by his kiss alone; Something I've never felt before.

"Tomorrow?" he reminds me when he stops walking.

"Yes, tomorrow. _Definitely_."

 **A/N: Hope this one was okay? I am so sorry for taking so long to update. Real life has been keeping me away, but I promise to get into the routine of updating frequently again. Not sure how you are all feeling about the content matter, but your thoughts are always welcome and interesting to me. :) Thank you.**

 **Lexi x**


	10. Chapter 10

**_Firstly_** _ **, I own nothing to do with 50 Shades. I'm just a fan doing this for her own enjoyment (and hopefully, readers are enjoying reading it too). :)**_

 _ **Thank you so much, and I do hope you enjoy this chapter.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 10**_

Once I get inside, I feel my stomach sink with dread when I hear my mother moving about in the kitchen making dinner. Really, I have no idea how I am going to be able to do this, in keeping things from her about me and Christian spending time together. Already, I feel ill with guilt, but I suppose its necessary, keeping this from her.

I know my mother, perhaps more than anyone else on the planet. She wouldn't be happy to know that I have been spending extra time with the guy she first met due to them messaging each other online on a dating website. And then, there is also the fact that he is older than me; _Twelve years_ older, in fact...

She has always been particularly protective of me, always worrying about me and whether I'm okay. If she found out about this, I know she would probably get so angry that steam would bellow out of her ears while she tooted like a train- like in one of those cartoons.

Still, I straighten my shoulders while tearing my bag off my shoulder, finding Mom near the stove in the kitchen. Something is already boiling away in the pot.

"Hey, honey. Your home later than usual? Did you get held back at school?"

I feel my ears glow with heat as it takes all I have not to avoid her eyes. "Um, no. Kate and I just hung out for awhile." I don't know how Katherine would feel with me using her as an alibi, but hopefully she won't mind.

"In the mall?"

"Yeah, in the mall. Kate wanted to try on a dress that she liked and saw from last week when we went." It unnerves me; how quick I am to make up an excuse. Even to my own ears and hearing myself, I sound pretty convincing. It all comes down to whether Mom believes me or not.

"That's funny. I went there myself after I finished work to get some meat for dinner. Mustn't have seen you girls there then?"

 _Oh, shit._ I glance away from her, finding sudden interest in the vegetables steaming away in the pot. I lift the lid, inspecting them a little too closely. "Probably. I mean, we were in the store in the dressing room for, like, an hour. Kate was _so_ indecisive. It's probably why you missed seeing us in there..."

"Yes, probably."

I'm eager to change subject. "So... you stayed over at Bob's last night?"

"I did, yes," she says slowly, sounding like she is trying to be careful with what she says in order not to give too much away. "I hope you didn't mind that, being in the house alone for the night?"

"No, Mom, I was fine here alone. You really don't need to worry about me so much."

"So you weren't scared to be alone, were you?" She studies me with worry; That's always been how my mother is, though. I can't even remember the last time she stayed away from home for the full night.

It's as though she's worried something might happen to me if she leaves me alone in the house. Maybe she has believed for so long that being a good mother consists of staying home with your daughter most days instead of having a social life or spending quality time with other people?

"No, Mom. I wasn't scared at all. It isn't like I'm seven again, where I was always afraid that the bogeyman was going to come out of the closet, or that someone might break into the house to murder me. It was fine." I smile at her reassuringly. "Besides its about time you start doing stuff for yourself. It's fine by me if you want to spend nights away from the house, so long as I know you're okay where you are."

"You don't feel its... strange, though?" she asks, making a face in uncertainty. "Here your mother is, almost at fifty years old... dating again?"

"Of course not! Do you really like Bob, though?"

Mom actually has to take a moment to think it through carefully. "I think I do like him a lot, yes. I certainly wasn't expecting to, but... I do." She puts a hand up in the air quickly, "Now that doesn't mean I never loved your father. I just... I feel I'm ready to move on." Mom's eyes widen in surprise at the admission herself; I guess she wasn't expecting to ever feel that way. "I mean, your father has his new wife now. It's only fair that I move on myself, isn't it?"

It's like she is searching for reassurance from me that its okay for her to start dating another man after Ray all those years ago. I don't know why she would think I wouldn't be okay with it, especially after having told her to go for it last week.

"Mom, I'm happy for you," I murmur sincerely. " _Really_. Honestly, I meant what I said before, about it being time you start putting yourself first and getting out and meeting someone. Ultimately I just want you to be happy..."

"I just... I suppose, honey, that I'm at an age where I realize that I'm not getting any younger. I just... I want to give it one last shot, you know? I don't want to die alone with no one there in the end."

Her dismal words startle me and I move closer, wrapping my arms around her. "Even if you were single until you're, like, a hundred, you still wouldn't be alone, Mom," I whisper to her, resting my cheek on her shoulder while she pats my head. "You'll always have me, no matter what, and I'll always be there for you."

"I know, honey. I've just been thinking a lot lately. I don't want you feeling as though, if I _do_ start a relationship with someone like Bob, that it means you come second. You'll always _be my_ baby, and _you'll always_ come first. I don't want you to feel that if things _do_ start becoming serious between me and Bob, that I will expect you to see him as a replacement father for Ray. It's not my intentions at all, in doing this."

"I get that, Mom. And I promise you, I'm totally fine with everything."

Hugging her so tight, the guilt again starts to rise. I want to say to Mom so badly, resuming our heart-to-heart conversations, _"You know how I said I liked an older guy? Well, it's Christian, the guy you bought over. Please don't hate me, and please don't be mad but we are... kind of spending time together after school."_

When Mom pulls away from me, I force myself to keep quiet, helping her with collecting the knives and forks and the dishes for dinner to set the table with.

It's only been a mere hour at the most and already, this is going to be so hard, not revealing anything to my mother about Christian and me. Now, I realize that more than ever. I hadn't fully considered just how tough it would be when I agreed to it with Christian in the cafe, because Mom and I, we always talk together and it is so difficult not to just come out with it and gush to her that I had experienced my first kiss this afternoon, that I _actually like_ someone for the first time.

But knowing Mom, I know how she'll react. I can't risk it; Telling her and having her get upset. So, taking in a deep breath and moving away towards the table, I beat those urges to tell her the truth down.

Hopefully, with some time, it'll get easier and the guilt with dissipate. Hopefully then, lying to Mom will become as natural and easy as breathing.

* * *

At lunch, Kate and I sit at our usual bench, eating lunch. Kate has been pestering me all morning about José, which I find to be really annoying, especially when she knows I have no feelings for him whatsoever other than those of the platonic, friendly kind. He had sat with me during class, showing me pictures he had taken on his camera- and Kate has been nagging me ever since about him not asking me out after school again. Maybe she should consider going out with him herself, seeing as she obviously feels that strongly about it?

"What a wimp, though," she goes on heatedly through a mouthful of her yogurt. "I mean, it's obvious he likes you! So why doesn't he just grow some balls already and does something to take it to the next level?"

"I _told_ you that I don't like him _in that way_ , Kate."

"I know that, but _still,_ its _so_ fucking annoying," she prattles on.

"Kate, can I tell you something?" I ask her uncertainly. I have been wondering whether to tell her about me and Christian all morning. A part of me knows that Kate has always been trustworthy, yet I still don't know if its a good idea, letting her know. It just would feel great to get it off my shoulders and tell _at least someone_ , seeing as I can't exactly tell Mom. Kate sits up straighter with interest, and I level the most menacing and severe look I can muster onto her. "And its something _really huge_ and you have to swear on your life not to tell _anybody_."

"Ana, you know me. You know I'm trustworthy."

"But _still,_ Kate. _No one_ can know and I mean that. Absolutely no one."

She sighs loudly in impatience. "Um, hello? You remember that time when we were, like, eleven and your Mom said that I could stay over for the night? Remember when you spilled some beetroot on the carpet and the stain wouldn't come out, and your Mom, like, went off her fucking head?"

"Yeah, of course I remember that."

"Well, didn't I take the blame back then so you wouldn't get into some deep shit with her?"

It's true and Kate did lie and take the fall for me. I still don't get why she is bringing it up though. Or, no less, what point she is trying to make out of it.

"Well, she _still_ thinks it was me right to this day, doesn't she? I haven't told her for _over six years_ that _you_ were truly the one that dropped it, staining the carpet, have I?"

"I'm not so sure that applies to this situation, Kate?"

"Still, doesn't that all just prove how good I am at keeping secrets? I _can be_ trustworthy and refrain from spreading secrets around, you know."

I'm still unconvinced on whether to tell her, but then I decide I probably should, if I am going to use Kate as an alibi for if I come home too late. "Okay, well... Christian and I spent some time together after school last night. We... we kissed." I keep my eyes on my banana that I'm peeling, trying not to seem too overly happy about it.

Kate makes the loud noise of excitement for me. "Holy shit! You both _kissed_ last night? Isn't he still seeing Carla though? If so, then that's pretty fucking sick, Ana. You both kissing the same guy?"

"No, it's like I told you," I remind her irritably. "Mom no longer was interested because she felt he was too young for her. Now, she's dating Bob, so... technically I'd say its cool for me to... start something with Christian considering Mom seems completely into Bob."

Kate purses her lips, thinking it through deeply for a moment. "Yeah, but... imagine what Carla will say once she finds out."

"And that's why Mom can't find out, Kate. I know she'll flip out and what's worse, it'll probably end up hurting Mom's feelings. But I _really, truly_ like him. I know Mom won't be happy, especially when Christian is older than me, but... if she doesn't find out, then what's the harm?"

"The harm is that you'll probably be grounded for the rest of your existence while she castrates Christian's manhood," Kate says straightforwardly. Even hearing her say the words makes me shudder, because I know that is precisely the reaction this would inspire out of my mother had she learned about this. "God, I can't believe you're actually hiding this from Carla! You _never_ hide things from Carla!"

"I know," I say guiltily. "But really, what other choice do I have? It isn't like I can tell her, is it? I also might have, um..." I smile at her ruefully. "I might have also used you as an alibi for my lateness in last night."

"You _what_?" Kate hisses in outrage.

"I'm sorry. I just said that the reason I was late home was because we hung out in the mall after school. Is that okay with you?"

"I guess so. But you know, if Carla ends up calling my parents, they'll totally foil your alibi."

"I know, but that's where I'm hoping it won't get that far to the point where Mom _will_ end up calling your parents."

"But _who_ suggested the whole keeping-it-from-Carla thing in the first place? You, because you know how nuts Carla would get over it, or him?"

" _He_ did," I admit to her quietly. "I think he feels kind of... ashamed over the age difference thing. I'm not actually really sure why. Also, he wants to keep being friends with my mother, I guess."

"You think he's married?"

I almost laugh out loud at her question; Surely he couldn't be married. "Um, if he's married then _why_ would he be on a dating website in the first place, trying to find a suitable partner to date? Wouldn't his wife eventually find out about that? Also, in all the times I've talked to him, he hasn't given the impression of being married. He doesn't have a ring on his finger?"

"I read once somewhere that men sometimes only suggest a secret relationship because they are either married and wanting a hot new young thing to have an affair with, or because... they're just downright trouble and bad news?"

I fail, slipping up with a laugh. "Um, I'm fairly certain he is none of those things, Kate."

"Drug dealer? Already in a relationship and wanting some fresh poo-tang on the side? Serial killer looking for his next victim to skin?" All the things she is shooting out, they grow even more ridiculous than the last. "Guy with some weird fetish who can't find a real woman to date in the real world on his own, other than on a dating website?"

"No, Kate!" I very nearly shout at her. "He hasn't given me the impression that he is _any single one_ of those things! He's definitely not married and he's definitely not a serial killer looking for me to be his next victim!"

"Well, either way, just be careful, won't you?" Kate's clearly not convinced. "I don't know, Ana. There's just something... _fishy_ about a guy who wants to keep a relationship quiet and a secret from everyone else unless he's hiding something major?"

"It's the age difference," I explain to her defensively. "The age difference and my mother. The fact that my mother would get angry. That's it, Kate, that's all. I _know_ it."

"Well, I mean, there _has to be_ something wrong with him wanting to keep it quiet. You're a total babe- you deserve to have someone who wants you on his arm to flaunt around and to be out and about with you in public, regardless of what people would think!"

"Well, I'm _almost_ eighteen soon. We'll see how it goes then, Kate. Who knows? Maybe we could tell my mother then, if things do get serious between us?"

"Even then, Ana, your mother will be so mad." I can't believe Kate, now of all times, has chosen not to be supportive or encouraging over this. "While I can somewhat get the appeal, having a secret relationship and meeting up with each other while praying to God no one oversees you guys or catches you, it's... I don't know." She shrugs. "I guess I just don't want to see you get hurt or for this to end badly?"

"Well, if I _do_ end up getting hurt, its on me. It'll just be another learning curve down the road. Besides I'm young, and I'm allowed to make mistakes, aren't I? Just like _you_ get to?" Her words of warning make me feel uneasy, like perhaps I shouldn't do this or I should suspect something is fundamentally wrong with Christian. I shake my head, eager to dismiss everything. "Anyway, please tell me you'll keep this to yourself?"

"Of course, I will. We're best friends, so why would I want to go behind your back and ruin something _this big_ for you? I just hope you know what could happen if Carla finds out. And you know what they say about secrets, don't you?"

"What, Kate?"

"They say that secrets can't remain secrets forever. Sooner or later, the secret is going to come to light and everyone will find out."

I toss the rest of my banana into the bin next to us, her words instantly ruining my appetite. On what she is saying, about secrets not remaining so forever, I hope she is wrong with that. It is absolutely crucial that my mother does not find out, at least not until I'm eighteen and I know she will be more lenient on me then with the news of me and Christian seeing each other.

Last lesson, my phone vibrates in my pocket, telling me I have received a text message. When I make sure the teacher won't catch me out and that the coast is clear, I check it quickly. Surely enough, its from Christian; A text asking me to meet him in Fletcher Street, which I know is the street a few blocks away from school.

When the bell at last goes off, I rush to my locker, collecting my jacket and my bag before heading out. Kate's words at lunch haven't left me.

 _Oh, God. What am I doing? What am I getting myself into?_

My heart feels heavy, with dread. Thanks to Kate, now I feel like I'm that close to stressing out to the point of having something similar to a panic attack. What if she's right? What if Christian actually is married or in a relationship, and that's the main reason why he wants to keep this thing a secret with me? If so, I definitely couldn't do this, despite how much I feel I like him.

It would just go against everything I have ever known; every little principle ingrained into myself from Mom over the years. There is no way I could happily do this, if he was actually involved with someone else. I feel bad enough as it is, lying to my mother. How could I live with myself if I found out he actually had a wife or girlfriend, and I was just this girl he strung along on the side?

From all I know ever since meeting him, Christian really doesn't seem the type to do something like that. Of course, I _don't know him_ all that well. But I'm hoping Kate isn't hitting the nail on the head in what she is implying. I figure the only way I can really find out, is by asking. My stomach turns when I reach the start of Fletcher Street, both in anticipation and excitement to see him again, as well as dread for the conversation I feel I have to have with him, just to be totally sure.

I spot the car, and then he climbs out.

The weather has dropped dramatically this afternoon compared to at lunch time and so I'm shivering, despite wearing my jacket.

"Anastasia," he says warmly, his tongue caressing my name wonderfully as he comes to meet me halfway. "Sorry about having to make you walk all this way. I figured it would be easier to find a parking place here to wait." He must see I'm shivering himself, because he starts taking his jacket off. "Here, put this on. You look freezing." Surprising me, he holds his jacket out for me and I turn, sliding my arms through the sleeves.

It's a lot warmer with his jacket on. Also, its kind of great, getting the chance to wear something that I know belongs _to him_.

"Thank you. The weather seemed to go downhill so suddenly after around lunchtime." I cringe as the comment leaves my mouth without thought. Of all the things to talk about, I have to choose talking about the weather? _How creative and impressive of me._

"How did you go when you got in last night?" he asks me, and when I finally turn to glance up at him, I see he appears a little anxious. There is tension there around his eyes. "Carla didn't mind that you came in late?"

It throws me off for a second, his concern over my mother finding anything out. It just makes me wonder if Kate's words had some ring of truth to them. "No, she didn't," I answer quietly. "I just said I hung out in the mall with my friend Kate for awhile."

"And you think she believed you?"

"She doesn't suspect a thing, I'm sure, so I'd say we're fine."

My words seem to brighten his mood quite a lot, because I see that worry and concern disappears almost instantly. "How was your day?"

"It was okay. How was yours?"

"Just fine." Now he's the one shivering in the blue business shirt he is wearing. He steps a few paces back from me before opening the car door for me. "Shall we? You should probably get in before you get even colder."

I can't argue against that, so I slide in, buckling my seat belt up while Christian strides briskly to the other side. I meet his drivers gaze in the mirror, smiling anxiously. Everything is nothing but a ringing silence in the car until Christian's seat belt is done up and he is directing his driver Taylor on where to take us.

Kate's words taunt me again. I really should ask, yet I'm not entirely sure how to broach the subject with him. _Still, its better to ask and know, isn't it? Before it gets too late anyway?_

When I clear my throat gently, sliding in the seat at an angle to be face-level with him, I find Christian is already watching me. _Since I already seem to have his undivided attention..._ "Um, could I ask you a few question?" I ask uncertainly. "There's just a few things I need to be made clear of and I would like it if you could actually be completely honest with me when you answer them?"

His eyes narrow at me in confusion before he nods once. "Of course, whatever you want."

I swallow, a dry lump in my throat as I try to work out the best way to ask it. "Do you want this- _us_ hanging out like this- to be kept quiet because of... other reasons than you wanting to keep your friendship with my mother? Is it just because you know she wouldn't approve of us doing this or is it also for... something more that you haven't told me?"

I watch his face carefully, studying it, not wanting to glance away for even a mere second in case I miss something extremely telling coming across. Only, he's not giving much away. His face is composed, devoid of anything revealing. "Something more?" He repeats, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Meaning what exactly, Ana?"

"For example, are you... involved with someone right now? A woman that you have failed to tell me about?"

"No, its as I told you. I _am_ single." His words sound truthful enough, but I still can't be sure.

"So there isn't a wife or a... a girlfriend in the picture that you might need to keep us hanging out away from at all?" He sighs loudly, his jaw tightening, and its then I realize I've hit a nerve somehow. "Because, if _there is_ , then... I hope you know that we can't do this- _I_ can't do this, I _refuse_ to- if you have a wife or a girlfriend that you want to keep this from. If you're looking for some kind of... secret affair outside of your marriage or relationship then I hope you know that I can't do this with you, I can't go down this path with you any longer..."

Christian stares at me for a long instance before he leans over in the seat, bringing himself closer to where I sit. "I don't know where you got all of these suspicions from, but let me make this abundantly clear on you then: I don't have a wife or a girlfriend, Ana," he mutters to me vehemently, his grey eyes boring into mine, what appears to be sincerity brimming in them. "I am not married, nor have I ever been married in the past. As for a girlfriend, I haven't had one in an... extremely long time."

His words leave me feeling as though a huge weight has been lifted; I can tell he is being honest with me, that he isn't lying.

"Okay then," I say, relieved. "Thank you for being honest and telling me. I just wanted you to make that clear, that's all. I just had to know, because, I... heard from someone that its often a likelihood that a person would suggest keeping a relationship secret because they were being unfaithful to their spouse or other partner, more often than not."

"And I understand that, Ana. If there is anything else you would like for me to clarify for you while we are here on the subject, then just ask me?"

"Well, so you... you also care a lot about being friends with my mother?"

"I do, yes. With what I do, with how... demanding my job is at times, its hard to come by and have many... friends. Also, after having met your mother, I could see that we got along with each other incredibly well and I could tell she was someone that I would like to have as a friend in my life. I see that she cares deeply for you, as you are her daughter, and I know its likely that had she ever find out about this that... things could go disastrously, particularly between you and her, your... natural bond with each other."

He pauses for a moment thoughtfully, licking his lips.

"I _am_ sorry for putting you in an extremely shitty situation such as this, but this is mainly about me being an asshole in keeping this a secret- in _even suggesting_ this- because... I find myself unable to keep away from you. I like you a lot yet I should have enough sense to stop this, to say no in doing this with you, but I feel I like you too much that its too difficult to do it, to do what I know is right."

"I don't think your an asshole," I whisper truthfully. "I don't think it makes you an asshole at all, putting me in this situation with you, because I _want it_ myself. I think I ought to take some responsibility in it too, and if you find yourself unable to stay away from me, then don't bother staying away, because I _don't want you_ to stay away."

Christian inhales in a deep breath, a wry smile coming across his mouth. "And that's why I find it mainly so hard to do whats right," he whispers contemplatively. "You were so... persistent, right from the moment I met you. At the house party Carla held especially; About age being nothing more than just an insignificant number, and all of that. I could see straight away how much you were... interested in me. It makes it hard."

"Then lets not think so much. Let's not beat ourselves up about it too much, about how guilty we'll feel later. Let's just _be_."

"Let's _just be_ ," he repeats in agreement, and leaning over more, his eyes shining at me, he kisses me, pressing his lips against mine.

 **Hope you enjoyed this one? Or was it hated? Sorry. Thank you so much for your reviews, I really do enjoy reading your perspectives on this perilous situation. It means a lot.**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Thank you so much for your amazing reviews! They mean the world to me (Cliche as that probably sounds but it is true). I love reading your thoughts. Hope you find some enjoyment in this one :)**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 11**_

A couple of days go past, and just as suddenly, its Friday, the day before the weekend. I haven't heard from Christian for the rest of the week- not even a single text message- after meeting him after school and asking those questions I needed to ask.

At least he had answered them though, and had seemed sincere. It's like a load off my back, not having to worry so much that he may already be involved with someone, that that was why he mainly suggested we keep this thing between us in private in the first place. I'll blame Kate for planting those seeds of doubt in my head, but when I look back on it, I suppose Kate was only being a good, caring friend- if brutally honest- with making me realize what I should be asking.

I've been checking my phone in case he has texted me incessantly every hour of the day, only to be quickly disappointed in learning he still hasn't texted. Some part of me is worried I've turned him off for good after having asked him those questions - about whether he was already involved with someone else, or married, even. Whenever I start mustering up the courage to text him first, either my mother will appear in the room or I'll be at school and I'll be distracted with all the assignments and work I have to get complete. Just when I'm becoming too desperate, at last I hear something from him, after dinner, at about 8.30 in the evening while I'm sitting on the couch watching TV with Mom:

 _Sorry, you haven't heard from me. I've been incredibly busy working._  
 _What are you doing tomorrow?_

I have to suppress the very relieved smile that comes across my face when I notice my mother's head turn into my direction curiously.

"It's just Kate texting," I tell Mom automatically, though I can't quite meet her gaze. "I think she wants to do something tomorrow. Probably go to the mall or see a movie. Are we doing anything tomorrow, Mom? Did you want to do anything?"

I still feel terrible and ill with guilt because of lying to her. It hasn't gotten any easier at all.

She stares at me for a moment with narrowed eyes, thinking deeply. Then she makes a dismissive grunting noise. "Not any plans that I know of, honey. We have nothing on the agenda, not really. I was going to meet Bob tomorrow, though. I believe he wanted to go for a drive with me. That okay with you?"

I've heard Mom sometimes upstairs in her room, talking to Bob on the phone during the late hours of the evening. I could hear her laughing or chattering excitedly to him. I'm so glad she's finally found a man that seems to make her feel so positive and happy. I still don't get why she insists on asking for my permission, seeing as she's practically the adult here, not the daughter.

"Mom, are you seriously asking for my permission on whether you and Bob can go driving together on a Saturday?" I laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all, and Mom smiles a little in embarrassment.

"Of course not, honey. I wasn't asking for _your_ permission. After all, shouldn't you be the one doing that?"

"Oh, touche. Then can I hang out with Kate in the mall tomorrow, seeing as its the weekend?" I blink at her innocently, doing my best angelic face because I know it'll get a laugh out of her.

"You and Kate seem to be spending an awful lot amount of time at the mall recently?" I feel my stomach churn with dread at her question. "What's been happening there? Why are you two suddenly such mall enthusiasts? Last time I checked, you hated shopping, Ana? There was a time there where I'd have to threaten to ground you in order to get you to try something on in the change room?"

"Well, I've changed," I say defensively. "People _change_ , Mom. Maybe I'm more into clothes and the latest fashion now that I'm older?"

"Hmm, I suppose so," she agrees thoughtfully. "And _yes_ , you may so long as you keep the hour you get home reasonable. I don't want you getting in too late."

A surge of annoyance rips through me. "Oh, come on, Mom," I groan in irritation. "It's the weekend. It isn't like I have to go to school the next day and, besides, I think I've been good enough lately that I deserve to stay out a little later than usual, don't I?" _Or maybe I just don't want Christian finding me boring because I still have a curfew even at my age..._

"Ten thirty then," Mom butts in, deadly serious. "You can stay out with Kate until ten thirty, but that's at the most latest. I hope you both know to keep yourselves safe, also. I don't want to hear from a police officer that you both have somehow gotten into trouble."

"Ten thirty," I agree, pleased. " _Thank you_. And there will be no phone calls from any police officers, I promise you!"

I pretend I need to go to the bathroom, shutting the door securely closed before leaning against the sink to type out my reply:

 _I'm available until a bit before ten thirty tomorrow. :)_

Christian's reply comes barely two minutes later:

 _Great. I have a surprise for you._

He sends me another text after deciding a good meeting place, and then I flush the toilet, pretending to wash my hands under the tap in the sink before heading back out into the living room to where Mom is.

Great, so _he does_ want to see me again. I hadn't screwed it up or turned him off in some way by asking those questions the way I had. _Thank God._

* * *

When my alarm goes off the very next morning, I feel like I haven't slept at all. My eyes feel grainy and heavy, but I force myself to get up and make my bed before figuring out something pretty and neat to wear for my day with Christian. I've been so excited to see him that sleeping had became next to impossible. Even though I know there is at least three hours until we meet at our arranged place, I still feel all anxious and filled with anticipation to see him again.

I end up wearing a pair of black skinny leg jeans, one of my tops which is ruffled at the sleeves and a cream color, and my trust Converse trainers. When I get downstairs after putting on some make-up, I realize Bob is already here; I can hear him and my mother talking down in the kitchen.

Since I haven't spent much time with Bob, I really don't know what to think of him, as yet. All I know, is that he is being good to my mother, if her attitude lately is anything to go by. A man that can make my mother seem happy and as though she is unable to stop smiling immediately scores instant brownie points in my books.

"Hello Ana," Bob says amicably when I get downstairs, finding him and my mother at the table, drinking coffee. "Morning, honey," Mom says, an elbow resting on the table, her hand nursing her chin. Already, she's smiling widely at Bob.

"Morning," I say. "Are you guys all ready for the drive?"

"We are. We just thought we'd have a cup of coffee before we make a start," Mom says. "Bob actually was wondering if you needed a lift to the mall or anything, honey? Or we could drop you off at Kate's house, if that's easiest?"

"Um, no, it's okay," I assure her, trying to look normal. I have no idea whether I am actually being convincing or not, but Mom doesn't seem as though she is suspicious in any way. "Kate and I are meeting in a couple of hours. Thanks for the kind offer though, Bob."

Bob asks me a few trivial things, like what I'm doing at school. Then, finally, they get ready to leave. Mom slips on her tinted sunglasses and hugs me as I follow them out to Bob's car.

"You and Kate keep safe and out of any sort of trouble, okay?" she says in a voice filled with warning while Bob starts his black Jeep up. "And don't forget: Not _a minute_ after ten thirty."

"Yes, Mom. I promise I won't forget. You and Bob have fun." I kiss her goodbye on the cheek, waving to them as the Jeep reverses out of the driveway. Once they have officially disappeared out of sight, I head back inside, gathering one of my handbags, shoving my wallet inside and slipping the leather strap over one shoulder before safely locking the house up.

As I start walking down the street, I can't help glancing around me nervously. I'd hate for Mom and Bob to somehow return to the house, spotting which direction I'm walking. I'm probably just being paranoid, but I can't help it. It's imperative my mother never finds out about this, because once she does... it will probably be the end of me and Christian spending time together.

So far, I have really enjoyed spending time with him. Every time I do, my nerves seem to disappear and I feel less self-conscious or that I'm going to screw it up or somehow say something wrong in front of him. I feel more comfortable around him and, also, maybe slightly... annoyed with how slow things are developing between us. We have only really kissed twice, and really, I would prefer it to happen so much more than it has. I don't know if he's making a conscious decision to be respectful and mindful of taking it slow with me, but I wish he wouldn't be.

It takes me about five minutes of a brisk walk to reach where he said to meet. I feel my heart sink when I notice there isn't a car already waiting for me. When I check the time on my phone, I see its exactly on the time he said to meet. He hasn't texted me either to tell me he has changed his mind. _So where is he? Unless... he's changed his mind all of a sudden and intends to stand me up?_

I don't know how I've turned into this desperate and foolish girl all of a sudden, but I assume it's what happens when you really like someone for the first time. My fears diminish the instance I spot his car gliding towards me. When it comes to a halt beside me, the automatic window scrolls down, and there, he is. Christian.

"Sorry about the lateness, Ana. Things didn't go so according to plan but its fine now."

When I nod and get in after he opens the door for me, moving back in his seat, he runs a hand through his hair while watching me buckle up. "How have you been since I last saw you?" he asks gently.

"I've been okay. How have you been, Christian?"

"Busy." He sighs loudly, frustration on his face. "I couldn't contact you for a while after last seeing you. Work has been hectic."

"I understand. It's fine." I smile tightly. "So, I hear you have a surprise for me?"

"I do, that's right."

"What kind of surprise?"

"Well, I can't exactly tell you, can I?" He smiles, that frustration suddenly evaporating. When he smiles, it's impossible to believe he is almost thirty-years-old. "Otherwise, it won't be a surprise to you anymore. You'll see once we get there."

"Okay, but... put that way, it sounds very... ominous," I mutter, teasing him.

Christian laughs. "You'll see once we get there. Hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I will."

"I'm sure I probably will."

The drive is short and before I know it, we've reached a large field of nothing but green grass. I think its an area where people usually play sports, but what I see directly in the middle of it, waiting for us, it makes my heart accelerate with nerves. It's a helicopter, the very last thing I was expecting to see. Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. is written in blue on the side; a company logo probably for his company. _This isn't the surprise he has in mind for me, is it?_

When I throw a look Christian's way, I find him watching my reaction very attentively.

"Ana, I would like for you to meet Charlie Tango. He is very special to me, and I have never properly introduced him to someone before." He looks through the window past me into the direction of the lone helicopter in the field again, his eyes glimmering with appreciation, and my nerves grow even worse. "This is your surprise. I wanted to take you on a ride."

Oh, yes. This is the surprise he has had in mind for me. Holy shit. I've never even so much as ridden on a plane before.

"Charlie Tango?" I repeat shakily, unsure whether to laugh or to consider it a joke. "You've actually named it Charlie Tango?"

"Well, that's what he's called. It's exactly like naming your car."

"Well, I wouldn't know anything about that, would I?" I say. "About people naming their cars, I mean. I don't even have my license yet."

"Do you want to get your license?"

"Of course I do. It would mean a lot of freedom, and less... relying on Carla most of the time to get me around to places where I can't get there alone by walking." I cringe at the mentioning of my mother, with how it comes so freely from my lips. "I'd love to get my license so that I could drive. It's just that... there wouldn't be much time available for anyone to help teach me how to drive. Everyone else is always so busy."

Christian nods at me understandingly. "Then I could always help teach you how to drive?"

"Really?" I ask skeptically. I hadn't expected him to offer. "It's fine if you would be too busy to, of course. Don't think that I'm angling for you to offer to teach me."

He shakes his head, a slight smile on his lips. _God, how can someone look so gorgeous._ "I wouldn't mind helping you learn how to drive, Ana, not at all. As you said, it'll help with giving yourself that extra bit of freedom. I know, when I was around your age, I couldn't wait to get my license. Sixteen couldn't have come soon enough for me." He doesn't seem as though he feels weird talking about his past younger years with me. In fact, I don't feel weird by it either, surprisingly. I guess that's mainly the appeal though; Talking to someone who already has experienced so much, someone who has so much to say.

"So that's when you first got your license? Sixteen?"

"Soon as I was allowed to, yes. I think I was like most boys in the sense that I was eager to drive. Shall we meet Charlie Tango?"

I'm so frightened by being in a helicopter for the first time that I realize I've been deliberately putting it off by distracting him in asking questions. I take in a deep breath. "Um, okay. Sure. Let's meet Charlie."

I try to look as impassive as possible when he sends a curt nod in his driver Taylor's direction before he unbuckles his seat belt, and I get into unbuckling mine. My hands can hardly operate straight; They are shaking that badly. I wonder if its obvious to him, just how nervous I am about riding on the helicopter with him; No doubt my lack of experience of planes is written all over my face, because I have never so much as flown anywhere by plane before.

Once I'm out of the car and standing outside, he comes to meet me around the car, holding a hand out to me. I don't hesitate to take it, finding comfort in the firm grasp of his hand around mine, in him leading the way and pulling me along the field.

I'm so distracted by the daunting sight of the sharp blades on top of the helicopter and how bigger it seems up front that I've failed to take notice of the old man that stands there behind it, checking something. "All external checks have been done, Mr. Grey," he says, stepping back from the helicopter to shake Christian's hand. "Everything is ready and you're free to go, sir."

"Excellent. Thank you, Joe."

Christian opens the door and directs me into one of the seats at the very front where someone actually steers and drives the helicopter- the cockpit, I think its called. There are all these various buttons in different areas; Buttons in which I have no idea in the slightest of what they mean or what they are used for.

"Make sure you don't touch anything, even by accident," he warns me as he clambers in behind me.

He shuts the door heavily as I sit down in my allocated spot, trying to remain calm and keep myself from hyperventilating. It's obvious that Christian is going to be the one flying the plane- and I so hope he knows what he is doing. Then again, didn't he say flying was one of his many expensive hobbies? Really, I wasn't so sure that he had meant that literally, but clearly he had. As he crouches beside me, helping me with connect the harness in so that I am safely buckled up, its evident he does know exactly what he is doing. Well, he hardly seems anxious about flying at all. I feel all the oxygen leave my lungs as he pulls the upper straps excruciatingly tight, enough that I can hardly move an inch.

"Are you going to be the one that's flying Charlie?" I bring myself to ask.

"I am." Leaning forward, he startles me by leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on my lips, then he moves away, sitting into his seat as well.

"When you said flying was one of your hobbies, I admit I never thought you were actually being serious on that." My voice comes out embarrassing high-pitched, showcasing my nerves. "But wow," I add breathlessly. "This is so amazing. I can't believe you know how to fly a helicopter, of all things."

"Well, I can be a man of many talents," he says lightheartedly. "You seem nervous?" he adds, scrutinizing me as he straps himself in with almost expert ease. As for him, he seems almost excited at the prospect of getting the chance to ride me around in his helicopter; He looks like a man utterly in his element.

"Well, I am. I've never ridden on a helicopter before." I can't even say it without feeling a flush of embarrassment hit me. "I've not even so much as been on a plane. I've never been up in the air before."

"Just breathe and try to relax then," Christian says reassuringly. "You're safe with me."

"Oh, well. I'd hope so, seeing as I'm practically trusting you with my life here. I hope we don't crash."

"We won't," he promises. "I know what I'm doing. I started flying when I was twenty two years old, so I can assure you, Ana, that we'll be perfectly fine and that we won't crash. That makes me a qualified pilot for over seven years." He starts flicking switches and weird buttons and it all happens so fast, its a blur. "And besides, if we do happen to crash- as unlikely as that may be- I know all about survival." The reassuring smile he sends my way makes me feel oddly mushy inside. He points to a set of headphones in front of me. "Put those on. Things do tend to get loud."

I slip the headphones on, and then the rotor blade start. He's right, of course; It does get loud. Deafening, in fact.

"The worst thing might be when we start to go up in the air." Christian's voice comes through my headphones. "Other than that, everything should be smooth. Today's a beautiful day for it."

He's even right about when we start rising into the air. There is so many vibrations, so many weird feelings, like my heart is falling straight down to my navel. Once we're higher, its then I finally muster enough courage to glance outside. And, despite the fear eating away at me for a second, its instantly replaced with wonder. Seeing everything from high-up in the air, its beyond amazing. The higher we get, the smaller everything appears.

"How are you feeling now that we're up in the air?" Christian's voice comes though, and when I bring my eyes over to him, I find him watching me. "Feel better?"

"Kind of," I admit. "It's actually... amazing. Once that initial fear dies down, the sights... its beautiful."

"There." He points at something and when I glance down through the window, I have to squint properly to see it. It's a house, I think. Well, a square roof. "There's your house."

"Oh my God," I laugh out nervously. "It so is my house! Everything looks so different from high up in the air, so... small and compact!"

How ironic; My mother thinks I'm simply spending time with Kate at the mall when, in reality, I'm hovering above our house in a helicopter that Christian himself is flying. It's so hard to wrap my head around it. When I glance at Christian again in amazement, I realize he is staring at me in a peculiarly soft and tender way. I have no idea what that's about, but I grin at him in admiration.

I can't not acknowledge how blessed I am to be having this experience with him. What girl my age gets the chance to ride in a helicopter with the guy she is really into? I'm so fortunate to be getting to experience this, to be riding in a helicopter for the first time in all my seventeen years of life. Can every girl say that they've ever done this?

"I cannot believe that you can actually operate a helicopter," I gush out, shaking my head. "It's so amazing of you. I bet other thirty-year-old's your age could only just dream of having the opportunity."

He shrugs at me, rather dismissively. "I suppose I have just been both incredibly fortunate and lucky to be able to do what I can."

"I don't think fortune or luck really has anything to do with it," I get out without thought. "If anything, _I'm_ the fortunate and lucky one to be sitting here getting to experience this with you. I think you've just been amazingly... driven and accomplished for your age." When I glance past my shoulder his way again, I find he is still staring at me, in that strange way. Self-consciousness settles its way in. "Why are you staring at me like that? Or do I have something horrific on my face?"

Clearly he finds me saying that funny, because I can see he is trying to stifle a smile. "No, you have nothing on your face. It isn't why I'm staring."

"Then why?" I ask suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be focusing on not letting us collide into a tree or something?"

"I just find your facial expressions interesting," he explains straightforwardly, his eyes boring into mine, and I don't know whether he means that in a bad way or not. He glances away with some effort, I notice, checking what's in front of him instead. "You just... I've never brought someone of the opposite sex up here before with me- certainly not one that I am interested in- so it's a first for me. I've done this by myself so many times that it's... exciting seeing it and experiencing it through someone else's eyes for once. It's astonishing how much can be revealed simply by looking at someone's face and their eyes as they see things."

I swallow dryly. "Do I look as petrified as I feel?"

His chuckle echoes through my headphones into my ears. "Hardly. You look beautiful, even if _you are_ petrified like you say you are."

 _Beautiful._ He just said _I'm beautiful_. My insides seem to squirm in relief and delight over him telling me that.

"Just let me know when you've had enough of flying around and I can take us back," he tells me after a moment.

"Right now, I'm happy to go at least another half an hour," I admit, staring through the window again. "I feel like I can't get enough of the scenery." _How amazing._

"Another half an hour it is then."

If I hadn't met Christian, if he hadn't come into my life through my mother... I would have never had experienced this before. The fact that he bothered to take me for a ride... "Thank you so much for this, by the way." I turn to look at him, meeting his eyes so he knows I'm being completely honest. "I love that you surprised me by taking me flying in a helicopter like this. I definitely wasn't expecting it, so you _did_ succeed in surprising me."

"Then I'm glad I've succeeded in surprising you. I hope you are enjoying it despite your first time flight fears?"

"I am a lot." I'm grinning so hard it hurts. "I still can't get over the shock of being up in the air for the first time but it is beyond my expectations." He glances my way again, licking his lips, and I realize I want to kiss him, so badly. I want him to kiss me. Only when I try to inch closer, the harness only pulls me back. _I guess I'll just have to wait until we're on the ground to do the kissing then._

"Ready to head back now?" he murmurs knowingly, like he knows what I'm thinking.

"Yes, please." _Yes, so I can actually kiss you without the harness holding me in place..._

My stomach lurches when Christian suddenly makes the helicopter turn and after a quick maneuver we are turning back.

"So you learned to fly when you were around twenty two?" I ask, trying to make conversation before it all ends.

"I did, yes. It has always been something I've enjoyed- the experience of flying. It is one of the most enjoyable things in the world to me."

"Guess I can't blame you for feeling that way," I reply. "It _is_ amazing, especially with what you get to see high up in the air. If I could fly, I think I'd like to do this all the time, too. It's really beautiful."

Once we finally reach the same area we were when we lifted off the ground, Christian says a few things to someone through the headphone and then gets ready for us to go lower to land. My heart rate picks up as I feel the strange sensations of us sinking lower and lower towards the field. _God, are we going to actually land safely? Or will we crash?_

Before I know what and I'm doing, out of sheer concern and nothing else, I reach over, placing my hand on Christian's knee closest to me, clenching down with my fingers tightly; The only thing I can possibly reach right now. I close my eyes, the lower and lower it feels we are falling, then finally, Christian removes my headphones off and then his and apparently we have landed smoothly.

"We've touched ground now," he says, eyeing me with some amusement. "You really didn't need to panic so much, Ana. I meant what I said, in that I know what I'm doing. You should learn to trust me a little more." It's hard to hear him through the rotor blades but as they slow and die down to a stop, he at last unbuckles himself and helps get me free from the harness. "I probably should have warned you beforehand," he says, grinning. His face is so close to mine as he kneels over me that the urge to kiss him attacks me again. "Landing is always the trickiest part, Ana. It feels like you are falling or losing control, but you aren't really."

The moment to make the first move in kissing him disappears when he moves away from me, opening the door to the helicopter. Rising to my feet, I realize I've lost all proper sensation in my legs. Well, not so much sensation, but the fact that I can hardly seem to walk in a straight line.

Christian seems to notice me walking funny, and its embarrassing. "Are you all right?" He places a hand on my back, helping to guide me down.

As my trainers hit the grass, I feel like I want to die. My knees feel all trembly and weak. "God, I'm sorry," I laugh out, trying to diffuse my embarrassment somehow. "I'm not used to flying. It's made me feel funny."

"I can carry you to the car, if you'd like?" He doesn't seem too concerned about having to carry me either way.

Seeing a good chance along with it to make my move, I accept, playing it up a little. He comes closer, his body pressing against mine, and as his arms come around me, he lifts me up, the muscles in his arms straining through the white shirt he is wearing as he holds me against him. I curl my arms around his neck, enjoying it perhaps a bit too much, being near and in close proximity with our bodies when he starts walking towards the car with me in his arms, my feet hanging limply in the air.

Silent laughter shakes through my body as I rest my forehead against his before pulling back slightly, staring at his face. His eyes meet mine, and he's so close, so close for it to be the most perfect moment, us kissing. All Christian has to do is move and close those few inches, and his mouth would be landing straight on mine.

 _Kiss me_ , my brain screams when I notice his eyes fall down to my lips. He licks his lips before lifting his gaze to mine again, and then I realize painfully that no, he won't do it. Not unless I make the first move and make it known how badly I want it. Maybe he is trying to be purposefully mindful and respectful towards me after all? Like he doesn't want me to feel pressured?

Surely I can't be the only one who feels it too though, could I? The need to kiss? The tension in our bodies at being held so close?

"Feeling better?" he asks, his voice sounding strained and different. His lips graze against the corner of my mouth as he says the words, his breath tantalizingly warm. My head seems to spin, my senses reeling.

Knowing now that I have to make the first move, I lick my lips, moving my head closer. When our mouths at last touch, I hear the mortifying moan I make in relief. I want him to kiss me more, so much more and more constant than what he has been giving me. I feel the muscles in his arms flex as he holds me tighter to his body, his mouth opening as he deepens our kiss.

It feels like my heart is going to burst, any second now. When he lifts one arm off my back, bringing his hand up, he combs his fingers through the strands of my hair gently, moving my fringe away from my face with his fingers. After a few more amazing seconds of his lips moving against mine, his tongue tracing along the line of my lips, he suddenly leans back, pulling away. I'm caught off-guard when Christian's arms loosen around me, and I slide off him, the soles of my shoes hitting the ground. My legs feel rubbery when he pushes me away gently, moving back.

I see the heat in his eyes, the desire as his eyes sliver down my clothes, when Christian rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing raggedly. Then with a brisk shake of his head, he clears his throat hoarsely, turning away from me to open the car door for me.

"How come you don't like kissing me much?" I ask in a thick voice before I lose my courage well and truly.

"Is that what you think?" He levels an incredulous look on me, still breathless. "That I don't like kissing you?"

"You haven't made the move very much to kiss me?"

"I do want to kiss you," Christian says, and he licks his lips again. "I suppose I'm just trying to be... the gentleman here and not make you feel like you are being pressured into doing something you don't want to do."

"Well, maybe _you_ shouldn't worry so much about how I'll feel," I say, and unsure of where this new-found confidence is coming from, I make sure I brush against him while climbing into the backseat of the car, remaining in the middle seat. I keep my eyes on nothing else but him as he sits in the seat next to me, shutting the door. "And besides, personally I think I'm big enough to handle more than a few kisses. I'm not some fragile little kid that can't handle it."

I hear the audible swallow he makes as his eyes bore into mine. "Duly noted. I'll remember that next time."

 **Hope this was okay and that it wasn't boring or tedious? I have no idea if I am doing this right, and I know that everyone is probably wildly out of character, but I hope that won't affect the story too much. It will ultimately be a happy ending story, there will just be drama from people around them and their perceptions of their relationship. Are you enjoying it so far still? Just a question, would you prefer longer chapters (5,000 words and more) to shorter ones?**


	12. Chapter 12

_**I own nothing to do with 50 Shades obviously. Just a fan doing this for my own entertainment :) Hope you enjoy this chapter and that it isn't boring!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 12**_

"What time did you have to get back home?" Christian asks me once we are moving in the car again, checking the time on his wrist watch.

"Um, well. Carla said around ten thirty at the latest."

"I'll get you back before then," he assures me. "Taylor, can you take us where I asked earlier, as planned? I'm thinking we might get some lunch."

"Of course, sir," Taylor agrees, the first time I think I have really heard him speak.

"I want you to meet someone else." Christian turns in his seat to face me, his face apprehensive. He places a hand on my knee, and I feel instantly... squirmy over it. Squirmy and mushy. "I know it's sudden, and I'm sorry for springing this up on you. But it really is important to me."

His words leave me confused. _Who else would he want me to meet? And why would he feel the need to apologize for springing whatever it was up on me unexpectedly?_ Taylor pulls up on the side of the curb at a restaurant that looks very fancy; One I have never been into before. I suppose it is very good thinking of him; Getting lunch, because I already feel famished, especially after the shock and excitement of being in Charlie Tango with him.

When Christian gets out of the car, he comes over, opening my door for me. I climb out while he directs Taylor to come back in two hours.

"Meet who?" I ask curiously, my interest piqued. "Another Charlie Tango?"

"No, an actual human this time," he explains, relaxed. He holds the door to the restaurant open for me. "My mother."

I stop dead still in my tracks at his words.

I am filled with sudden panic. Well, this is really unexpected. _His mother? He wants me to meet his mother now? What if she thinks I'm all wrong for him or realizes I'm a lot younger than him? What if she reacts badly?_

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask uncertainly, wringing my hands out at my sides. "I mean, what if your mother notices how much younger I am compared to you? What if she gets angry?"

"Well, then if she gets angry, its her loss." He shrugs. "She may be shocked at first, but I know she'll eventually come around." He offers his hand to me, and after a moment of hesitation, I take it, breathing in deeply.

I don't look the best to meet his mother. I want to make a good impression on her, but at the same time, I'm petrified how she will react. I know how my mother would react to the news and, surely, Christian's mother would react the same. I'm startled by how calm and carefree Christian looks though, as he gives my hand a firm, reassuring squeeze before leading me towards an area where a woman is sitting by herself at a table.

The woman sitting alone looks about my mother's age, if a bit older. She's already going through the menu, while one hand plays with the scarf wrapped around her neck absently _. Is she Christian's mother?_

My worst fears are confirmed when suddenly she looks up from the menu, a beaming smile coming across her face as she sees Christian. She immediately stands, patting him on the shoulder. I don't think she's noticed me yet, which is good. Frankly, I wish I had superpowers that would enable me to vanish straight on the spot.

"Hello, honey," she says, showing the side of her face to him. "I don't have long to stick around unfortunately. I have a client in an hour." Christian leans down, kissing her on the cheek quickly, before glancing my way.

 _Here it goes..._

His mother blinks at me for a moment, in shock I think. Her eyes roam down the clothes I'm wearing and my face- but I don't think the look is meant to be critical. She's just curious. Christian's mother is dressed impeccably in a white coat and white trousers, the scarf bringing in the only bit of bright color. Her sandy colored hair is wound around her head neatly in a bun.

"Mother, I want you to meet someone. This is Anastasia. Ana, this is my mother, Grace Trevelyan-Grey."

She gets over her shock enough to hold her hand out to me, which I shake.

"Dr Trevelyan-Grey," I say quietly, my voice high with nerves.

"Please, just call me Grace. Things don't need to be so formal." She laughs, kind of awkwardly. "It's nice to meet you, Ana," she murmurs. There's surprise in her voice; Apparently this is just as unexpected for her as it is for me, Christian introducing us. "When you said you wanted to meet for lunch, Christian, I wasn't expecting you to bring a... girl along with you. Are you two-" Her voice trails off with uncertainty as she looks between us again, her eyes focusing on the fact that we are holding hands.

"Yes, we're seeing each other, Mother."

Her perfectly trimmed eyebrows arch. "Seeing each other? As in-"

"-We've been seeing each other in a relationship sort of way, yes."

"Oh." She looks me over again, a hand fanning her face. The tight-lipped smile on her face betrays her; I know she's already cottoned-on to how much younger I am compared to her son. "You look very... young, Ana?"

My stomach drops as I look up at Christian anxiously. I don't know whether to tell her the truth or not.

But then Christian says, after a moment of hesitation, "Yes, Ana is eighteen, Mother." I'm not exactly eighteen quite _yet_ , but its not completely a lie. At least he doesn't sound ashamed to admit that in any way.

Grace's reaction isn't very encouraging through; She actually gasps loudly, eyeing me from head to toe again. When she fixes a look on Christian again, I see she appears almost stern, reprimanding. "Eighteen? Well, that is extremely young?" I think she wants him to explain, and Christian releases my hand while pulling my chair open for me at the table. "Can I speak to you in privacy for a moment please, Christian?"

"Of course, Mother." To his credit, Christian looks completely composed and ready for this. I can't say the same for me. "We'll be right back, Ana."

"Um, okay."

Grace leads Christian about a meter away from the table by the arm and even though they are talking in quiet measured voices, I still hear everything.

" _Eighteen_? Christian, just what do you think you are getting yourself into? She's extremely young?"

"I know, Mother, but I really care for her." Christian's voice is a low hiss. "I know how crazy this seems, but we get along very well, and we seem to like each other a lot."

"She's hardly three years older than Mia?"

"I know that, but it just... it's just how it worked out. It wasn't as though I intentionally sought someone her age out. Honestly, I didn't expect to feel this... serious about someone her age, but here I am. It just happened; The more time I spend with Ana, the more I am falling for her. Clearly, if she didn't mean a lot to me then I wouldn't have bothered getting you two to meet like this."

"Yes, I was starting to suspect you may have been gay. You work all the time, and you hardly ever bring someone with you to the house. But an eighteen year old girl, of all things?" Grace's voice has risen. She's chiding him. "Is she even out of school?"

 _Oh, shit._ "She's finishing this year."

I close my eyes tight, clasping my hands together in my lap. "So she's _still_ in _high schoo_ l? Have you any idea how... how _bad_ this sounds? What everyone could think?"

"I _don't care_ what they think, Mother. I've never felt as happy as I feel when I'm with her this way in an extremely long time."

"And what about _her_?" God, I can only imagine how this conversation would go down with my own mother... "Does she know how financially well-off you are? I know that some young women, particularly in these situations, select a man specifically due to that?"

Oh, great. So now she is assuming I must somehow want to be around him only because he is wealthy? It's like a brutal slap to the face.

"Of course not, Mother. She doesn't even know anything about that. She isn't what you're daring to think she is; She isn't some gold-digger only hanging around because she hopes I'll give her financial support in the end!"

"What is it called?" Grace rambles thoughtfully, "A... a sugar-daddy? A...a young woman that preys on a wealthy man? What's next? Will you be funneling out money to get her through college?"

"Mother, that is absolutely ridiculous. Ana isn't like that at all."

"But you really think that whatever is going on between you and _that girl_ is actually ever going to go anywhere? That it'll ever turn into something special and... and real? Surely, Christian, you can't be that naive. She's young- how long will it take for her to prey on the next available wealthy man she finds? She won't ever want-"

"-Mother, now that is _really_ enough," I hear Christian snap over her, his voice rising. "You're being ridiculous. Now can you please stop this and be polite in front of her, at the very least? This is intimidating on her enough as it is."

"Fine," Grace relents unhappily with a sigh.

I reopen my eyes and try to look normal as possible and as though I haven't overheard them arguing when they return back to the table. Christian looks both frustrated and annoyed by the assumptions his mother had quickly came to. Really, I suppose I can't blame her for being concerned for her son, but I know I'm no gold-digger just using him. I don't even know how much money he makes- nothing like that. I suppose all I can do is try my very best to prove her wrong.

Just as Christian is pulling up the seat next to me, his mother's phone goes off in her coat. "Goddamn it," she curses under her breath, pulling it out. She checks it, sighing loudly again. "I'm sorry, darling, but I can't stick around like I initially thought I could. I have to get back into the office."

Christian doesn't look happy by it all, but he forces a smile for her. "All right then, Mother."

"Anyway, it was... nice meeting you, Ana." The look on her face proves she feels otherwise. "Son, I'll call you later tonight."

It's only once she strides out through the door of the restaurant briskly that the tension seems to leave my body. That went way worse than I was expecting, really. I don't think I was ready for it- ready to meet her and to see how someone would react to us like this, so negatively.

When I glance Christian's way nervously, I find he is staring down at the table top; One elbow resting on the table, hand supporting his head. He won't dare look at me after how she reacted so badly. He looks almost... disappointed. Ashamed, even.

He shakes his head slightly before lifting his chin and meeting my gaze, a rueful smile coming across his lips. "Well, that went extraordinarily well, wouldn't you think?" he asks sarcastically.

"I'm sorry." A part of me feels this is all my fault for some reason. "I guess I... kind of knew that was bound to come, that she would react so badly the way she did. I'm just... sorry that she did."

"It isn't your fault." He sighs at me loudly, raking his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what I was thinking- in doing what I just did, in getting you two to meet when I knew there was the slightest possibility she would react like that. I was just... expecting her to understand or to be happy at the very least." He shakes his head again helplessly. Then he shrugs, "No doubt she will get over it and will warm up to the idea eventually soon enough."

"You just wait until this happens with my mother," I say, trying to make a joke to break him out of his dismal mood. "She'll probably react way worse than your mother ever would." Grace's words that I overheard come back to me, stinging me. I try to find the most easiest way to ask it, "Does your mother Grace think that... that we are only spending time together like this because I am using you?"

Christian narrows his eyes at me. "I don't care what she wrongly thinks."

"But she thinks that there's a possibility that I'm just using you for your money?" I know that's what she thinks. Only she couldn't be more wrong. "I have no idea how much money you make, nor do I care. I suppose I can understand that she would feel concerned that I may be using you or trying to scam you for money, but... I'm not. I don't care about money or... anything like that. I hope you know that?"

"She doesn't know _what_ to think, clearly." His tone is clipped, pissed-off. But then he clears his throat, and smiles at me, with some effort. I can tell its fake though and that he is still disappointed by her reaction. "Let's just forget about it and get something to eat. You hungry?"

"I am, surprisingly." He pulls the menu towards me and we look together. I still sort of can't believe what just happened, how he wanted to introduce me to his mother, especially when we kind of wanted to keep this thing a secret between us. Well, _he_ was the one who suggested it in the first place anyway, just how important it would be to. "I'm kind of... _surprised_ that you wanted me to meet your mother, though," I confess. "I've never had a guy wanting to introduce me to their parents, obviously. I always just assumed it was a... _serious_ step?"

"What? And you didn't think _I_ felt this _was_ serious? That _I_ am serious about this?"

"Honestly, I... I _don't know_ what to think?" Are we doing this because he really is interested in me in a serious way or is this just a... fun thing to do with me?

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

His words take me by complete and utter surprise. I try not to look too shocked as I examine his face carefully, trying to figure out what he wants. It really does seem as though he is actually asking me, that he does want me to be his actual girlfriend. "Do you want me to be your actual girlfriend?" I ask cautiously.

"I do."

"Even though your mother practically accused me of being a... a gold-digger and expressed how unhappy she was about this?" I laugh out loud incredulously. " _Even then_ , you _still_ want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Well, when you get to my age, Ana, you learn not to take what people think or what they say so seriously..."

 _Hmm, I guess that makes sense. "_ But we'll have to tell my mother sooner or later?" I point out hesitatingly.

"And whenever _you_ are ready, we will." I don't know where his sudden decision change came from but its astonishing. "I know a lot of people will have something to say about us, that they will... perceive us a certain way. But what I _do_ feel, is that we have something special here. I've enjoyed spending time with you and getting to know you, and your... reaction when I took you for a ride in Charlie Tango. I know it's probably sudden and... quick, but I feel that already I am starting to fall deeply for you in a way that I haven't felt before, about _anyone_." His eyes search mine deeply. "I don't know if you feel the same way, but it's how I feel?"

 _Oh, wow. What can I possibly say in response to that?_

A waitress suddenly appears to take down our orders and with burning cheeks, I choose the first thing I read. Soup, while Christian orders some oysters. Once the waitress leaves, I turn to look at him again.

"So, you say you've never felt this way about someone before? Why hasn't there been any... other girlfriends?" I ask, intrigued. "Or is it just... the same reason you were on that dating website?"

"Essentially, yes. It's just... the busyness of work and being able to find the time to meet someone." I can tell he wants to ask me something, but he seems to hesitate for a moment. "And what about you?" he finally asks. "Have you ever... had a boyfriend before?"

I look away from him, embarrassed. _Will he think I'm such a dork if I admit how truly inexperienced I am, with everything?_ "No, I've never had a boyfriend before obviously. I just... I want to make Carla proud so I mainly keep focused on getting good grades and concentrating. Also, I find boys my age incredibly immature and... annoying- which I've already practically told you about like a million times since we first met." I laugh, bringing myself to meet his eyes again. "I've never had a boyfriend. I've never really... done anything yet, to be completely honest." There is something else I want to know, though... is it inappropriate to ask outright? "When was the... first time you had sex with a woman?"

"I was... fifteen." He sounds wary and almost like he is hating me asking. I can't help it that I'm curious, though.

"That's like Kate," I say without thinking. "Kate lost her virginity with this guy at school. I know a lot of other people at my school first had sex at fifteen. I just... I wasn't interested, you know?"

The waitress returns with our meals we ordered and we fall silent for a moment as she places them on the table. The soup looks pretty good, despite not knowing which soup it is meant to be. As for Christian's oysters, I can't say they look too appetizing. I can't believe people actually eat oysters; Of course, I have never tried them before.

"And where do you see yourself about... ten years from now? What do you want for yourself? Children?" Christian asks the question at the wrong time, just as I'm swallowing down a mouthful of my soup. I almost choke at the serious question.

"I suppose I've never actually thought that far into how I see my life will go." I don't know why he is bothering to ask, but when I glance at him, I notice he is watching me attentively. "Honestly, I think as far as completing my finals and then getting into a good college. Then... after that a good job, whichever happens. Why? Do you want children in the future?"

He squints at his platter of oysters thoughtfully for a moment. "I actually would like to have children, I think. I would like to have a wife and a family somewhere down the line, yes. So you don't want children?"

"I think I would actually like to have kids, I guess." I shrug. "I would like to have a family of my own someday, like... everyone else. I suppose its really a natural course of life, isn't it? Finish school and college, get a job. Get married... have kids."

"When?" It throws me off, how interested Christian is for a specific time-frame. I'm eighteen soon. _Who at my age thinks so seriously about stuff like that, though?_ I certainly haven't.

"I don't know." I laugh nervously, unnerved by how he is throwing all of these serious topics my way. "I guess a long, _long_ time from now. _Obviously_ I want to experience a career first and live a little before the whole serious stuff begins, like having kids."

"Right, of course." I may be mistaken, but he looks kind of... disappointed by what I'm saying.

"Why the heavy questions?" I ask suspiciously with a laugh. "You're certainly making me start to think about things I never have ever thought about before, so... good job there. When do you see yourself having children?"

"Well, obviously I am not getting any younger. I suppose it depends on the person I'm with, when they are... ready for it." Christian peers into my soup with some amusement. "What soup did you order again?"

"That's the thing," I laugh, taking another sip from my spoon. "I have no idea. I kind of just... picked out the first thing on the menu that I could see. Your words from earlier kind of distracted me."

"May I?" Moving closer to me in the chair and without waiting for my answer, he slips his fingers over my hand, ladling soup into the spoon before guiding both my hand and his with the spoon to his mouth to try some of it. His eyes burn into mine as the spoon goes into his mouth, and it leaves me feeling strangely... warm and flushed once he finally lets my hand with the spoon go while licking his lips. "Is that chicken soup? Tomato?" I crack up at him, startling myself by the loud laughter that erupts from my mouth. "What the hell kind of soup is that?"

Joking around and teasing, its so difficult to believe that he is twelve-years-older than me. Maybe he is right though, in what he said? That we do have something special here?

After having spent time with him all week, I no longer feel nervous around him; I feel like I can more or less be my complete, weird and goofy self, without fear of him judging me. The more I have learned about him while being in his company... the more I find myself really liking him.

Sure, other people might feel uncomfortable by what is happening between us and about how younger I am compared to him, but really, I have never felt more happier than when I am spending time with him. _And he wants me to be his actual girlfriend despite his mother's terrible reaction?_

"Do you want some oysters?" he asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Eww, no thank you. I don't like the idea of eating sea urchins."

He laughs. "I hardly think oysters are sea urchins, Ana."

I make a face at them. "I've never actually tried oysters before but they look... gross. Thanks, though."

"Fair enough." I watch as he picks up an oyster shell between his fingers, holding it to his lips. When he tips his head back, letting the oyster slide into his mouth while placing the empty shell back onto the platter, and its strange because he just swallows and doesn't chew it. Is that how you are supposed to eat them? "You don't chew, you swallow," he explains to me, probably seeing my confused staring. "Or well, you _can_ chew, but you aren't supposed to."

If one thing is for sure, I can really learn a lot from him...

"Yes," I answer belatedly, and he meets my gaze, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yes to what, Ana?"

"Yes, I _would love_ to be your girlfriend, Christian," I explain, my throat tight.

He stares at me a moment, something shining there in his eyes, then he reaches down, taking my hand that is in my lap. He slowly pulls it up towards his mouth, laying a lingering kiss on my knuckle, and I press my lips together, trying to suppress a smile at the strange, old-fashioned gesture.

"Your mother probably isn't going to accept this though, and neither will mine. Not ever," I remind him nervously.

My heart leaps in my chest when he puts his hand beneath my chin, his thumb stroking around it gently as he stares into my eyes deeply for a moment. Then he shrugs, a smile playing along his lips. "We'll deal with it once it happens," he whispers throatily, then his eyes fly down to my lips.

Once he leans down towards me, kissing me once on the lips, I close my eyes tightly, finding such perfection in everything that its crazy. When he pulls back and I give him a small smile, I realize something.

I really want to experience my first time very soon. I _really want_ to experience how it feels to be made love to. _By him._

 _ **A/N: So... I hope this one was okay and not terribly written? What do you think? Liking? Hating? Still not sure? Please do let me know :)**_


	13. Chapter 13

**_Firstly_** _ **, I own nothing to do with 50 Shades. I'm just a fan doing this for her own enjoyment.  
**_

 ** _I'm sorry for taking so long to update. Christmas has been busy. I hope you like this one, and I promise not to leave the delay in updates so long again._**

 ** _As usual, I'd love to know what you think about this one and where the story is heading._**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 13**_

Once I get in from my day with Christian, I take off my jacket, slipping it onto the rack by the front door, smiling so much that my face hurts. I cannot believe just how good of a day its been; First, riding in a helicopter. Then being introduced to Christian's mother and, what more, him asking me to be his girlfriend. I just cannot wrap my head around it.

 _So many_ firsts were experienced today...

First helicopter ride. First time being introduced to a guy's mother. First time a guy has ever asked me to be his girlfriend. I'm his girlfriend now, and it's amazing. I find it so hard for it to completely sink in, it feels like I'm dreaming.

That happiness diminishes a little when I hear my mother laughing in the kitchen. Oh, great. Her and Bob must be back from their drive already. I have no idea how to act like my normal, usual self but I try my best. I set my face and inhale deeply, trying to appear less smiley, before heading in.

I find Mom and Bob standing near the kitchen table, a few bags in front of them. It seems as though they had a really good day; Mom is smiling and everything.

"Oh, hello, honey," she says as she turns to look at me, shocked. "I didn't hear you get in." She throws a look over at the microwave to check the time. "And earlier than your ten thirty curfew that I gave you, too. Did everything go all right with Kate?" Just as usual, Mom sounds worried.

"Of course it did, yeah. Kate and I decided we didn't want to stay out for too long, so I came home." The explanation seems to come easily from my lips for once as I look between her and Bob. "Is that okay? Or... did I come home too early for you guys?"

Bob laughs, moving towards the cupboards where we hold our dishes. "Not at all, Ana. Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"No, nothing really. I mean, Kate and I had lunch, but it was just soup."

"We got some takeout," Mom explains. "You want some too, honey?"

I contemplate eating dinner with them for an uncertain moment. I'm not really hungry. In fact, I'm far too excited to eat anything. I want to call Kate and tell her the news. I feel like I need to gush to someone- and Kate is always my go-to girl for gushing. I decide to skip on dinner with them, heading upstairs to my room instead. I switch on my lamp and close my curtains, settling comfortably on my bed before calling Kate.

She answers on the third ring. "Hey, Ana. What's up?"

It's impossible to know where to even start. "Well, I hung out with Christian today."

" _And_?" she prompts, drawing the word out.

I decide to start out with the simple things first, hoping to make her suffer. "Well, he took me out flying."

"Flying? As in-"

"-On a helicopter, yeah." I can't help the huge grin that comes across my face. "He actually flew me around in a helicopter."

"Wow. He actually knows how to fly a plane?" Kate sounds impressed. "How cool."

"I know, right?"

"And? What else happened?"

I inhale in shakily, a weird sensation forming in my belly. "He introduced me to his mother."

There is a long silence on Kate's end. Then she asks in a loud gush of disbelief, "He what?"

"Yeah, he actually introduced me to his mother."

"Holy shit, that's serious! How was she like?"

"Well, it didn't... go down so well." I cringe, sitting up to yank off my shoes, letting them fall to the floor loudly. "She practically accused me of using him because of his wealth, like I'm some kind of gold-digger."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. _And_..." I can hardly refrain from getting too excited, "Also, I am very pleased to admit that your best friend Anastasia Steele is now a taken woman."

Kate lets out a loud squeal, making me laugh. I knew she'd be so happy for me. "Are you fucking serious? He asked you out?"

"Yeah, he did. I now have a boyfriend."

"Holy shit, Ana. Wow. Today's been a big day for you then, hasn't it? Huh?"

"Yeah, tell me about it," I mutter, my voice shaking. "I still can't believe it actually happened. It feels so... surreal. Like a good dream, almost."

"So what else happened?" she pries excitedly.

"What do you mean, what else happened?"

"What other goss is there? Did you guys... _do_ anything?" God, Kate can be such a meddlesome pervert sometimes.

"Um, sure. We... kissed a couple of times."

"Did he feel under your shirt? Anything?" I feel myself redden at her ludicrous words. I'm also embarrassed at the idea of how pleasant it would be, if he had actually felt beneath my clothes with his hands.

"Um, _of course_ he didn't, Kate. We were out in public together, in a restaurant. I'm sure people would find it appropriate."

"Screw appropriate, Ana. Who gives a shit, really?"

"Maybe _I_ do?" This entire conversation unnerves me. "I'm sure lots of people would have loved to see that while they tried to eat their food." Sarcasm fully intended.

"So it's just kissing? You guys just kissed?" Kate's disappointed.

"Yep, that's pretty much it, Kate."

"But you want him to fuck you?" I sigh loudly at her words. Even just thinking about it... him doing anything like that with me, it makes me feel strange. _Tingly_.

"I... I think I actually do. But he seems so... reluctant, I think. He's trying to be mindful and respect me, I think. I know I would definitely like for us to go further, for sure."

"God, how boring. Why don't you just tell him then? Just tell him when you see him next that you want him to fuck your brains out, and then, voila. Done."

"I... I can't though," I breathe out nervously.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I just can't, Kate. You know me; You know I could never say that to someone."

"Well, sometimes you've got to. He's not a mind-reader, after all. Sometimes you've got to be direct, even... with an older guy obviously."

"But I can't. I could never be like you, Kate," I protest uncomfortably. "I know I'm definitely ready for it and I want it with him, but... I don't want to be too forward." Suddenly I hear a creaking noise on the floorboard outside my door. _Shit, Mom intends to come in._ "Kate, I better go. Mom's coming in."

"Okay. Talk tomorrow? Hang out?"

"Yes, definitely. Bye." I hang up just as Mom knocks then enters, poking her head in through the crack in the door. I sit up against the pillows hastily, forcing a smile, hoping to seem normal. "Hey, Mom. Everything okay?"

"Yes, honey. Just thought I'd let you know that Bob and I left some take-out in the fridge for you. It's Chinese."

"Gee, thanks, Mom. But you really didn't have to do that? I'm fine."

"Well, maybe you can eat it tomorrow if you get hungry? Bob actually wanted me to come over tomorrow night. Is that all right with you?"

"Seriously, Mom. You don't need to ask my permission."

She laughs, stepping into my room. "And I'm not, honey. I just want to make sure you'll be okay sleeping in the house alone for the night."

"I did a couple of nights ago when you stayed at Bob's and I was fine then," I remind her. "I'm fine sleeping in the house alone for a night, Mom. Really."

"Okay. So, you don't mind me going to stay the night at Bob's?"

I cannot believe she is so worried about me; Mom usually always gets herself so worked up about me, for no real reason. "Of course not, Mom. Go have fun with Bob."

 _And besides, maybe I can use her absence tomorrow to my advantage?_

* * *

Next morning, I actually do end up meeting Kate this time. We meet where we usually do down the street, and she hooks her arm through mine as we start walking.

"Mom's staying over at Bob's tonight," I announce to her. "I'll be home alone all night."

"Perfect." Kate grins at me before looking back down the road. I get the suspicion she wants to make sure no one is around, near us to overhear. But when I glance around too, I don't see anyone. Then she slips a hand in her pocket, bringing a square box out that is still securely wrapped in shiny plastic. "I got you a present, Ana."

"A present, Kate? What the hell for?" She hands it to me and I don't get what she means until I read what the labels says. I feel my cheeks redden as I stare at her in outrage.

Kate just laughs. "Pretty fitting gift, don't you think?"

She's bought me a box of condoms, damn her. _Extra large_ condoms.

"Come on, Kate. That's so not funny."

"No, I think its perfect." She stops looking so amused, trying to be serious instead. "You should tell him to come over tonight while your Mom's away. It would be perfect."

I stare at her doubtfully. "I don't know, Kate." I try to hand the stupid box of condoms back to her, but she shoves them back, insisting I keep them. "Why did you get me these? Or were you just doing it to tease me and be a total bitch?"

"Well, you said you wanted to fuck him last night on the phone, didn't you, Ana? I figured you'd need some decent protection. What you should do is, you should text him, telling him to come over tonight while Carla's away."

I feel like I'm hyperventilating at the thought. My breaths go shallow, panicked. "I don't know if I want to, Kate. What if _he_ doesn't want to?"

She rolls her eyes. "Ana, he's a guy. All guys want it."

"I'm nervous though?" I sound like a petrified child; It's ridiculous.

"Ana, everyone is nervous on their first time. It's not a big deal."

Kate's already had sex before, so I figure it won't hurt to ask. "But does it hurt?"

"Kind of, at first, depending on the size of him. And, if you aren't wet enough." I glance away from her, mortified by her words. I don't think I could ever learn to become comfortable talking about sex, yet Kate seems to be able to do it so easily. "But if the guys decent and he cares enough, he'll make sure you _are_ wet before he does anything. I hear its better with older guys anyway; They have more experience and they know what to do. He'll guide you along slowly, I'm sure."

"But what if he thinks I'm an idiot? What if he thinks I'm... not good looking enough to have sex with once my clothes are off?"

God, I _really am_ showing my inexperience to her, but when I force myself to glance at Kate, she looks nothing but sympathetic.

"Ana, you're a babe. I know its hard, but you should try to relax. You're overthinking it. You have to know if you are sure, though." She stops walking, stepping in front of me, her blue eyes searching mine seriously. "Do you feel like you want it with him?"

I hesitate, glancing down at the box of condoms she has given me again. "I... I think so. I _definitely_ really like him, and I... I think I would like to have my first time with someone like him, sure."

"Then text him."

"To say what, Kate?"

"Just be firm. Say that Carla's going out tonight and tell him to come over."

I slip my phone out of my pocket, switching it on and finding his number. I can't even type the words properly, because my thumb is shaking.

 _Carla won't be home tonight. I want you to come over._

After its sent, we start walking again slowly, my stomach in knots. God, this is intolerable, but I know I want it. Kate's just bold enough to get me to acknowledge it and turn it into reality.

My phone tings and Kate grabs it to read the message before I can.

"I can be over a bit after eight thirty," she reads, raising her eyebrows at me. "What time did Carla say she was leaving to go with Bob?"

"I'm not sure. Last time, I think she went in the afternoon."

"Then eight thirty is perfect, right? It's good."

"Okay," I breathe reluctantly, going along. "Eight thirty it is, then."

We start walking again, but my mind is stuck on other things. Like what will now be happening tonight hopefully, for instance. I can't help stressing and wondering. _Will he want me too? Will it hurt? Will he be that big that he actually needs to wear extra large condoms like the ones Kate brought for me?_

God, Mom would be livid if she ever knew I was having sex or that I was inviting someone over to have sex with... But I decide that doesn't matter right now. All that matters, is what will inevitably happen tonight once home alone and Christian comes over.

I'm surprised by how I feel; Nervous, yet excited, aching with anticipation. _Both._

 ** _Again, sorry for being away for so long. What did you think? Do you like where its heading? I'd love to know! If you have any suggestions on what you would like to happen, feel free to let me know. Hoping you are still interested in the story? :) Hope you had a wonderful Christmas!_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**I own nothing to do with 50 Shades obviously. Just a fan doing this for my own entertainment :) Hope you enjoy this chapter and that it isn't boring!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 14**_

So he's coming over tonight while Mom's away to stay over at her new boyfriend's house. _Eight thirty_. I can't even seem to get my head straight when I hang at home with Mom before she leaves. I feel so nervous, yet excited at the same time about what could potentially happen once we are alone.

I realize I want to have sex with him _so_ badly. I want him to be my first, yet I'm scared. I won't know what to do and he will, and I might say or do the wrong thing. Christian might even decide my body isn't good enough for him or something. What if he doesn't like the way I look without clothes on? What if he finds the size of my breasts pitifully lacking?

But, I suppose, there is only one way to figure out the answer to all of my doubts. It will be tonight, once he comes over and we are alone while Mom's away.

When Mom leaves, I stand outside the front door, waving to her. Once her car is out of sight, I head inside, getting started on preparations for tonight. I tear open my backpack, grabbing the unopened box of condoms Kate bought me this morning as a sort-of joke. I don't know whether they are his size or not, whether they are right, but... _hopefully_ they will come in handy tonight.

I go around the house, turning off the lights and leaving on the lamps instead. I think I read somewhere that having minimal light creates an atmospheric experience. It apparently adds sensuality to the experience- or so I've read. With the house looking clean and fairly dark, I head upstairs, searching through my drawers for something pretty and even sexy to wear. _But what constitutes in a older guy's eyes as sexy? What can I wear without being too obvious that I want him to have sex with me?_

I end up choosing a dress, even although I know its too formal for the occasion. It will probably immediately tip him off of with my intentions of inviting him over, but Kate told me today that sometimes you need to be direct and honest. Men love women to be direct and not keep them guessing, especially older guys like he is.

I carry my dress and the best bra and underwear I own into the bathroom, checking my alarm clock for the time on the way in. Already, its seven thirty. Crap, I better hurry.

I shave my legs and under my armpits, because I know guys like a woman to not be hairy. Then I change into the bra, the dress, and slither into the clean underwear. I stand back, turning on the side, glancing at myself apprehensively in the mirror. The dress is one of my favorites; It's red and one-shouldered. I think I have only ever worn it once. Just looking by my face, it betrays me, showing exactly how I feel on the outside.

I look scared shitless. Sexy or elusive is the very last thing that comes to mind with how I look but it will have to do.

As I get back downstairs, barefooted, I start stressing about how to act. I have no idea what I am going to say to him. Do I just say it outright? _I want you to have sex with me. I want you to be my first._

Or do I just not say anything, and just show it in any other way other than by blunt and forward words? Start slowly by making out with him on the couch? Shit, I am stressing way too much.

In order to distract myself, I find the remote, sitting down to watch the TV. I can't help biting my nails. My stomach is in knots and I can't seem to sit still. I'm restless. By the time I hear a knock on the front door, signalling his arrival to the house, I feel like throwing up. But I can't throw up, though. I absolutely can't. Throwing up is not sexy.

I mute the TV, climbing to my feet. I make hasty alterations with my dress, fixing up the one shoulder strap, before I feel satisfied enough to answer the front door and let him see me. Fixing a smile on my face, I pull open the front door, letting him in.

"Come in," I say, hating how weird I sound. "Thanks so much for coming around, by the way. I know it was probably short notice."

"Not at all."

Christian stands for a moment by the _welcome_ mat at the front door, wiping his shoes considerately before stepping in. He looks around, probably nervous that I've tricked him and lied about my mother being around.

"Don't worry. _She's_ not here," I assure him breathlessly. "It's just us."

Suddenly I am paranoid that I am somehow breathing too heavily, like a woman who needs an oxygen tank.

 _God, he's so unfairly gorgeous,_ I can't help thinking once I close the door, following him into the living room. I feel those pesky butterflies infect me as I scrutinize what he is wearing. He's wearing tight dark denim jeans and a white button-up business shirt with a men's black blazer thrown over it.

"Can I get you anything?" I ask, remembering my manners. "I can get you a drink if you like? We have some wine left in the fridge?"

He turns, meeting my gaze. I notice his eyes slowly roam down what I am wearing, yet I can't work out his reaction. Is he happy with what he sees? Does he find how I look sexy? What?

"Sure," he says after a moment. "Wine would be great."

"Okay." The smile I put on, I know, is way too big and fake. "Great. I'll go get you a glass of wine then. You just sit and make yourself comfortable."

"How was your day?" he asks on my way to the kitchen.

"Yeah, it was... okay. How was yours?"

"Same old work stuff." He doesn't elaborate.

As I head into the kitchen, I remember the box of condoms Kate got me this morning. _Shit, where did I put them again?_ Trying to be productive, I open the fridge, pulling out the bottle of red wine while searching around the kitchen counter for them. I feel my heart splutter in panic. Crap, I can't find them anywhere in the kitchen. Where did I put them? I hope I haven't left them in the living room where _he_ is. _Shit, what if I did and he sees them?_

Now isn't the time to panic, though. Everything is going to work out fine. Or so I try to convince myself.

With shaky fingers, I grab a wine glass off the shelf, prying the bottle open. I end up spilling some of the wine on the floor, and I curse under my breath as I frantically grab the sponge to clean it up off the tiles. By the time I carry his glass of wine into the living room, I feel flustered and embarrassed already.

I find Christian on the couch, the TV going softly. He must have turned the mute off.

"Here's your wine, as requested," I croak out, handing it to him carefully.

"Thank you for your speedy service." His eyes are shining with amusement, yet I can't tell if he is actually making fun of me or not. _Am I acting like a total idiot?_

I sit next to him, focusing on the TV while I see out of the corner of my eye Christian raising the glass to his lips. That panic and fluttering sensation in my chest hits me again as I try to pay attention to what is happening on the TV, rather than the man beside me who I so want to have sex with.

I realize I've ended up sitting too close to him on the couch; Every time he moves to take a sip of his wine, his shoulder ends up brushing against me. It leaves me feeling strangely overheated every time it happens.

When I figure it is safe to without being caught by him, I risk a quick peek at the side of his face. He seems... engrossed in what's on the TV. Pity I can't say the same for me. What they are saying on the show doesn't even register to me. All that I can seem to be aware of is that he is actually here, in my house, sitting close to me.

Suddenly, he turns his head to look at me and I glance away hurriedly, my cheeks flaming. "Do you like this show?" he asks me, and I feel like I'm about to catch on fire as I force myself to meet his eyes again with a smile.

"Um, not really. I don't even watch this show usually."

"So why did you invite me over here?" His brows furrow in confusion as he shifts slightly to look at me, resting his wine glass on his knee.

 _Fuck, what to say?_ My mind races. _Do I get it over with and just say it? I invited you over here because I want you to make love to me. What? What do I say?_

"Because Mom's away for the night," I end up saying, though it isn't what I want to actually say. "I thought it would be... perfect for us to spend some time together."

"Watching the TV?"

Say it now, my mind screams at me. Say what you want now that you've captured his attention.

"No, not just to... watch the TV exactly. Just to, um... take advantage."

His gray eyes remain on me, shining with amusement, as he lifts his glass, pursing his lips over the rim to take a short sip of the red wine in. I can't help watching him swallow in fascination. I'm captivated. God, his lips are so perfect. _I want to feel them against my skin. I want to feel his mouth on my skin,_ _everywhere._ Lowering the glass, he runs his tongue over his lips, moistening them. It only makes me redden as I find myself fantasizing about his tongue now. _I want his tongue on me, most of all..._

I can't take it anymore. It's now or never. It is time to be brave and be adult.

Boldly, I make myself maintain eye-contact with him as I reach over, curling my fingers over the stem of the wine glass, yanking it free from his grasp. Sitting up, I place the wine glass on the coffee table. He lets me do it so at least that's something.

The scary part comes next. I turn, angling my body, climbing over him on the couch, sitting astride him with my legs. As I curl my arms around his neck, facing him, I see him inhale in deeply as he sits up slightly, creating more distance between us with his face. My heart sinks as I take in his expression; It isn't very encouraging at all. He looks... uncomfortable.

Still, I ignore it, lifting up a hand to touch the side of his face, feeling the short hairs on his jaw from his stubble. He closes his eyes, inhaling in again. I get the impression that he doesn't want to look at me. He definitely still seems uncomfortable, especially with the way he has angled the upper half of his torso away from me.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" I whisper in confusion, studying his face. I know I am though, and it's a silly question. It crushes me that he won't dare look at me.

But then he slowly reopens his eyes, looking straight at me. His eyes search my face for a second, before he asks in a strangely deeper and strained tone, "What are you doing right now, Ana?"

"I think you _know_ already just what I'm doing, Christian." I grab one of his hands, putting it on my thigh making him hold onto me. "Did you think I really asked you here only so that you could watch the TV with me?"

I decide to make the first move and go in for the kill, even if it will leave me heartbroken afterwards. I lean in, pressing my mouth to his, keeping our lips held on each others. I hear him swallow audibly due to our closeness, his lips parting. He doesn't kiss me back though, which leaves a frisson of frustration to form in my gut. I lean back, glancing at him, sliding my hand down his face, back onto his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he repeats, narrowing his eyes at me. I realize he's angry with me. I'm actually making him angry. _But how? Why?_

"I... I just..." I falter, glancing down at one of the buttons on his shirt as a stab of pain and rejection crashes over me. "Mom's gone away for the night. I... I just wanted to invite you over because I knew we would be alone together."

"To do _what_ exactly? _What_ do you want?"

I realize he actually doesn't understand. He hasn't worked out what my true intentions are. Apparently I haven't been as obvious with it as I had thought.

"I just... I wanted you to come over while my mother was away."

"Yes, and I think I figured that out. But _why_?" When I glance up at his face nervously, I see how irritated he looks. "What did you want with me being here? To just 'chill out', as you put it?"

"No, not to chill out exactly. I wanted you to..." I take in a deep breath, avoiding his gaze again. _God, why is it so difficult?_ "I... I wanted you to make love to me, that's all. I... I thought it would be perfect, seeing as we would be alone and Mom wouldn't be here all night to catch us."

"You wanted me to make love to you?"There is something there in his tone, something... different. I almost feel like he is making fun of me, that he is laughing at me. "So _that's_ what you _want_ , Anastasia? For me to make love to you while we are alone in your mother's house?"

There is no way I can avoid him, not when he lifts a hand, clasping my chin between his thumb and fingers, forcing my head up so I have no choice to meet his gaze. My stomach dances in unease.

"Y-Yes, it's what I _want_."

"You're just only seventeen."

"So what? A lot of people my age have had sex already. Some even younger."

"You're a child."

My hands clench instinctively around his shoulders as I feel them tremble with anger, my jaw stiffening. _I'm just a child? No, I'm not. I'm not a child._

"I'm _not_ a child," I choke out in anger. "The age of consent here is sixteen. I'm _not_ a child, and I know what I want! And, besides... you said you were fifteen when you experienced your first time, didn't you?"

He sighs loudly, bringing up a hand to comb his fingers through his hair slowly. "Yes, but that's... different."

"How? _Why_ the double standard then?"

"I suppose it _was_... similar," Christian says in a low voice, considering. "She was much older than I was. Much, much, _much_ older. And with you, I guess it will be different," he goes on, like he is trying to convince himself. "I _really_ like you and I know you agreed to be my girlfriend. I introduced you to my mother... the first time I've ever introduced her to anyone."

"So why should it matter that we do this now?"

Something foreign snaps and breaks within me. Slackening my hand from his shoulder, I reach down, grabbing one of his much bigger ones. I hold it in my own, guiding it up, making him cup one of my breasts though the fabric of my dress, forcing his palm to squeeze down on it firmly. I hear his breathing speed up, going shallower.

" _See_?" I mutter stoutly, my eyes stinging with tears as he closes his eyes again tightly. "How can I be a child to you when I have these?"

"I don't make love. It's just... _not_ what I do." He sounds conflicted, torn. I'm not entirely sure what he means by that. But I guess its called everything, isn't it? Making love, sex. Fucking. I know I'm winning in swaying his mind though at least.

"So _don't_ make love to me then," I say urgently, pleadingly. "I _don't care_ how it happens or... or what you want to call it. I just _want_ it with you. I... I want _you_ to be my first, _just_ you."

Christian reopens his eyes slowly, glancing up at me, his jaw tight. A hoarse and hollow chuckle escapes him. "You _don't know_ what you're saying."

I bend down, pressing my mouth to his again. This time, he responds in the way I want him to. With my hand still holding his over my breast through my dress, he starts kissing me back, his lips moving against mine. Slow at first, building up, then it turns urgent and intense, like he feels we are short on time.

Then he slides forward to the edge of the couch, his arm coming around me, keeping me pinned to him. When he stands, my legs clench around him instinctively out of fear of falling, then he starts walking with me in his arms, our kissing turning into something quicker and needy. I realize he is carrying me upstairs to my bedroom, to my bed.

I know we have arrived there when suddenly we fall and my back hits the mattress while Christian is on top of me. He stops kissing me, breathing heavily, moving off the bed to stand in front of me. My breathing is shallow, my heart racing in excitement when he strips out of his blazer, throwing it carelessly at his feet. Then he unbuttons his shirt quickly, shuffling out of it, dropping it to the floor as he undoes his jeans.

I have never seen a man naked before, no less his genitals. So its confronting when Christian kicks off his shoes before stepping out of his jeans, exposed to me everywhere. A man's penis, it's... strange, yet in a good way. He stares at me for a moment, looking deeply down into my eyes, unashamed of his body. He is toned, with muscular thighs and a few strange scars on his chest. When he pants for me to stand, I feel those nerves settling in when he goes behind me, finding the zipper of my dress.

He slides it down, and his hands, eager and impatient, slips the strap off my shoulder. I let the dress fall straight down at my feet, fighting the urge to cover myself from him in just my bra and underwear.

"I don't make love, if that's what you're expecting," he breathes very seriously, reminding me of that again, I guess. "So are you sure this is _still_ exactly what you want?"

I turn my head, forcing myself to look at him from where he stands. His eyes are drinking me in, my skin, the way I look in my underwear and bra. And it's so nice, so nice how he looks. For once, someone is looking at me in a way that I have always felt I have wanted to be looked at. Like I'm someone attractive, someone inspiring desire.

"Yes," I assure him anxiously. "This is _exactly_ what I want."

 **A/N: I apologize about this chapter. I was tired when I wrote it, then reading back I realized I'd missed vital points in the story that had previously happened. Sorry for my tardiness. Christian does really like Ana and wants to be in a relationship with her, have a future, its just the way he associates making love as, due to his previous background with Elena, etc.**

 **I'm sorry if its crap and confusing! I enjoy reading your perspectives and some feel that he is similar to Elena, Mrs Robinson. I guess that can be said but it won't work out that way. He isn't actually manipulating her or anything, his intentions are as well as they can be :-)**


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